Kirra felt Senneth flinch again, but her voice was steady and unyielding. “I am not the only one assigned to protect the princess. If I were to fail, she would still be safe.”
“Oh, yes, I’ve heard. Riders in your train. The very thought of tangling with them must make any man quiver with fear.”
“Riders were strong enough to best you once,” Senneth replied.
“But even the king’s army is not threat enough to keep me tamely on my estates,” he replied. “You must realize you are dealing with no ordinary man, serra. You must realize I am unique.”
“Dangerous.”
“But always friendly to you,” he said, and reached for her again.
Kirra knocked his hand away.
For a moment, it seemed as if all noise and conversation in the entire room came to a halt. Kirra’s head was ringing with the pressure of the marlord’s astonishment and displeasure, turned full force on her. Or maybe it was the aftershock of slapping his hand. Maybe Senneth was not the only mystic who was not able to endure his touch.
“And who are you to display such reckless disrespect?” he demanded in an ominous voice.
Kirra was unnerved, but Casserah would have been wholly unmoved. “Casserah Danalustrous,” she replied. “Keep your hands off of Senneth.”
Now his face lit with a mixture of amusement and speculation. “The reclusive serramarra recently named heir!” he exclaimed. “Everyone has been anxious to meet you! Have you treated them all with such contempt?”
“Only those who deserved it.”
“Oh, that’s very good. That lovely sneer—that bone-deep arrogance—that will win you many friends in the Twelve Houses.”
“I don’t need that many friends,” she said politely. “I’m not trying to organize a rebellion.”
He laughed softly, but his black eyes narrowed and he was no longer amused. “A marlady always needs friends,” he said. “And a beautiful young marlady needs a husband.”
She laughed out loud at that. “That would temper my arrogance for certain,” she agreed. “Perhaps you can suggest a candidate to my father?”
“I am more interested in finding a match for Senneth,” he said suavely. “I always have been.”
Again, Kirra felt Senneth recoil. Taking a shot wholly at random, Kirra said, “But aren’t you here with your own wife tonight, marlord? Isn’t she right there behind you?” The Wild Mother was kind to her; the woman’s name, wholly forgotten until this moment, slipped into her head. “Sabina, is that you?”
One of the women in the group nearby turned at the sound of her name. She was small and pretty, with very fine blond hair pulled back in a tight braid, leaving her fragile, haunted face wholly exposed. Her blue eyes were huge; her full mouth was pushed into an attempt at a smile. “Yes?” she said in a nervous voice.
Only the faintest look of annoyance crossed Halchon’s face. He reached out a hand and pulled her into their conversation. “Sabina, my dear, here are a couple of serramarra you do not often get a chance to meet. Senneth Brassenthwaite and Casserah Danalustrous.”
The hand she extended was cold and thin. Kirra felt an irrational impulse to go fetch a shawl and draw the woman over to a fireplace. Sabina was a few years older than Senneth, so hardly a helpless child, and yet there was an air of complete vulnerability about her. Or perhaps Kirra was pitying her too much for being married to her husband.
Even Senneth shook Sabina’s hand, holding it a moment or two longer than necessary. Kirra wondered if Senneth was trying to infuse some of her own body heat into the marlady. Senneth was even easier to rouse to sympathy than Kirra, and Senneth had greater reason to hate Halchon Gisseltess.
“I don’t believe I’ve actually met either of you before,” Sabina said in a wispy voice. “How delightful that you are here tonight.” She turned her eyes toward Senneth. “I am acquainted with your brother.”
“Kiernan? I do not envy you,” Senneth said with a smile.
“Yes, of course, Kiernan, too, but I meant Nate.”
“Ah, my
other
outspoken, overbearing brother,” Senneth said.
Sabina actually laughed. “I thought they were both very kind.”
“Then you have seen a side of them mysteriously hidden from me! But I’m glad they treated you well.”
Sabina now attempted to make small talk with Casserah. “Are you enjoying your travels? I understand you do not often leave Danalustrous.”
Even Casserah would have been gentle with this poor woman. “Yes, each House has been more interesting than the last,” she said. “I find myself wondering if Danalustrous should not have its own grand ball and invite the Twelve Houses.” Casserah would find herself wondering no such thing, but Kirra couldn’t help being amused at putting the words in her sister’s mouth. She was tempted to add,
Your husband wouldn’t be invited, of course, but you’d be welcome.
Better not.
“We are—we are not having a ball at Gisseltess this season,” Sabina said wistfully. “But perhaps, if we arrange one next year, you would be able to come?”
Casserah would never forgive her for promising that. “I would be delighted to receive an invitation, my lady.”
“And we’ll make sure to include Senneth, too, shall we?” Halchon murmured.
Senneth lifted her eyes to his face. “I am not much of one for the social circuit,” she demurred. “It is unlikely you will ever find me at Gissel Plain.”
“Well, then,” he said, his voice quite cheerful, “I shall just hope to see you again one day in Ghosenhall.”
Kirra was chilled by the threat implicit in those words—or the unspoken ones that came after.
When I am installed as king, and when I have discarded this pathetic creature and made you my bride.
Impossible as it seemed, Sabina wilted a little more. Senneth said nothing. Even Kirra could not think of a reply. Fortunately, the dinner bell rang just then, and they all turned with some relief toward the dining hall.
Tayse was standing right there.
Kirra gasped and dropped Senneth’s arm, and everyone in Halchon’s party offered up cries of varying degrees of intensity. How had he crossed the room with such absolute stealth? How had everyone in their own small group failed to see him? Kirra knew he could move silently when he chose, but he was a big man in dark colors in a well-lit space. How long had he stood there, unnoticed, listening to their conversation?
Halchon Gisseltess was almost hissing in dislike, but he would not speak directly to Tayse. “So,” he said to Senneth. “I see your tame Rider still follows you like a dog.”
Tayse stepped forward so close, so fast, that Halchon backed up a pace. Sabina gave a little cry and put a hand to her throat. Tayse and Halchon both ignored her. “If you ever lay a hand on her again, I will kill you,” Tayse said.
“You would be instantly dead,” Halchon scoffed.
“But not before the blade went home.”
“I am not afraid of a King’s Rider,” Halchon said, swinging his attention back to Senneth. “Or a mystic with unreliable powers.”
Kirra found her voice and made it sound breezy. “But are you afraid to incur your hostess’s wrath? The dinner bell has sounded, and everyone else has gone in to eat.”
In fact, the room was only about half empty, as dozens of Mayva’s guests lingered to gawk at the little drama being played out at one end of the room. Mayva herself was one of them, standing at the door between the rooms, wringing her hands, and appearing to argue in a low voice with her husband. Kirra had no idea how long Lowell had stood beside Senneth, listening to her trade insults with Halchon Gisseltess. She had not noticed him leaving. She had had no attention for any but the principal players.
Halchon took his wife’s hand and laid it on his arm. “Indeed, yes, let us go in to dinner, Sabina,” he said. “Senneth. Casserah. I am sure I will have the pleasure of talking with both of you later. Perhaps you will each save me a dance tomorrow at the ball.”
“I won’t,” Kirra said.
“I don’t dance,” Senneth said.
He gave them both a savage smile. By the expression on Sabina’s face, his fingers had just tightened painfully over her hand. “Then we will have to content ourselves with more pleasant discourse,” he responded. “I will look forward to the hour.”
Finally, finally, he stepped away from them, trailed by the three other members of his party, who looked dazed and a little worried. Kirra blew out her breath in one long, unladylike whuffle and turned to share her astonishment with Senneth.
And found herself even more astonished. For there, in the middle of Nocklyn Towers, in full view of twenty or thirty exalted guests, the serramarra of Brassenthwaite had melted into the arms of a King’s Rider and was allowing him to hold her as if he was the only thing keeping her from dissolution. Kirra could not see Senneth’s face, buried against his black vest, but she could see Tayse’s. She turned silently away and walked alone across the width of the room.
CHAPTER
26
D
INNER conversation was interesting, to say the least. Kirra had been set among a handful of high-ranking nobles, including marlords Rafe Storian and Martin Helven and their wives. Rafe, as usual, felt no qualms about speaking his mind.
“Casserah! By the Lady’s silver tears, what was that all about? Is that Halchon Gisseltess? I thought he was confined to his estates! Were you and that Brassenthwaite girl trying to arrest him in the name of the king?”
Before answering, Kirra spared a moment to savor his description of Senneth as
that Brassenthwaite girl.
“Well, no, but we did express surprise at seeing him here,” she replied. “What is Mayva about, to invite such a man to her house? The king will be gravely displeased.”
“It’s not Mayva. It’s her husband,” Martin said. He was a heavy, balding man whom Kirra had always considered both smart and likable, if a little too cautious to suit her impetuous style. “He’s Gisseltess kin. He probably extended the invitation.”
“Does it matter? He’s on Nocklyn land, and Nocklyn shall pay the price,” Kirra replied.
Clera Storian leaned forward and her topaz pendant swung forward just far enough to reveal her housemark. “But who cares about boring old Halchon Gisseltess,” she said. “Did you
see
? Senneth Brassenthwaite flung herself into the arms of a Rider! Is there a scandal brewing there?”
“Senneth Brassenthwaite,” Martin repeated. “I haven’t seen her since—she could only have been a child. Who could ever have predicted she would—well. She’s led a strange life, has she not?”
“Missing for close to twenty years!” Clera exclaimed. “And she comes back and turns out to be some kind of strange mystic—and you just know her poor father must be cursing in his grave—and
now
she’s consorting with soldiers? With common men? Kiernan will have to lock her up! Or she’ll destroy the reputation of Brassenthwaite.”
Kirra toyed with the stem of her glass and tried to decide how much Casserah would say. For herself, she wanted to throw the water in Clera’s smug face and stalk to a different table. But she kept her voice cool, even uninterested. “It’s difficult to lock Senneth up someplace she doesn’t want to stay,” she said. “And I don’t think Kiernan feels like trying. Go ahead and ostracize Senneth if you like—she won’t mind. She’s only here to protect Amalie. She doesn’t care for approval from—from anyone, really. Certainly not from the Twelve Houses.”
“But Casserah,” Clera said urgently. “A
King’s Rider
? And a
serramarra
? Even if she is the most disreputable serramarra in the history of the realm?”
Kirra’s fingers tightened on the glass, and then she took her hand and folded it in her lap. “The most amazing serramarra in the history of the realm,” she said. “My father and the king honor her highly. You might choose to remember that.”
Rafe Storian shook his head. “And yet these are perilous times for the king himself,” he said, lowering his voice and looking around. “I am happy to see his daughter here with us tonight, but I have to wonder: Is that enough to quiet the doubters? What happens next?”
Fortunately, the uneasy state of politics interested everyone—except Clera Storian—as much as Senneth’s breach of propriety, so talk turned to other topics. Kirra listened, but when she heard nothing new in their prattle and gossip, she let her attention wander to the other diners. Yes, a good number of them appeared to be whispering together and then cutting their eyes in Senneth’s direction, their faces showing shock and dismay. A few of them looked between Senneth and Amalie, then whispered some more. It didn’t take much imagination to guess those conversations:
Can a woman with so little judgment be trusted to guard the princess?