“Arberharst and Karyndein, which is even farther west than Sovenfeld. I think the people will be quite exotic.”
“I’ll be there,” Romar said. “If that’s any inducement.”
Kirra laughed. She had to put some effort into it not to sound giddy. “It most certainly is.”
“Good,” Amalie said. “I’ll write my father to expect you.”
Eloise Kianlever claimed Amalie’s attention then. Kirra and Romar allowed themselves to step a few paces away to have what passed for a private conversation under such circumstances.
“Why are you really here?” Romar asked in a low voice. “I’m elated to see you, of course, but I can’t think of a reason for the change.”
“Ariane’s granddaughter is very sick and she was hoping I could heal her. It seemed best to attempt such a maneuver when I could appear as myself. Anyone who knows Casserah would believe she is entirely capable of leaving someone’s house simply because she’s bored with the whole social round. Time for Kirra to make an appearance.”
“And could you? Heal the little girl?”
She laughed again. By the Wild Mother’s woolly head, she felt so
good.
“Yes. I believe I did. We won’t know for a few days.”
“And will you really come to Ghosenhall for the dinner?”
“Of course. Any reason I shouldn’t?”
He shook his head. “I was afraid to hope you would come. Another few days to spend with you—what a gift from the gods that would be.”
“Well, of course, I would be coming to see the
ambassadors
, not you, precisely.”
He shook his head again, smiling now. “Then we shall have to make do with what time we have left while we are together here. My room is on the second floor, overlooking the front drive. Will you come to me tonight?”
“Any reason I shouldn’t?” she repeated, whispering now.
“No,” he replied, his voice very low. “And every reason you should.”
BUT it was strange that night, different. She was happy when she first arrived, wandering in through his open window like a painted moth, all dusty colors and love of light. As soon as she was shaped like a woman again, he kissed her hungrily, embracing her so tightly that her ribs protested. She had a sudden, sharp memory of Donnal’s gentle kiss good-bye, and it made her turn vague and heavy in Romar’s arms, despite his passion.
He did not seem to notice. “It has been so long since I have held you,” he said with a groan when she pulled free and took a deep breath.
“Only one night.”
He kissed her again, even harder. “One night, and I could hardly bear that. How will I stand all the nights in between? When you’re gone and I’m back in Merrenstow?”
Back in Merrenstow with your wife.
She didn’t say it, but the thought cast another cloud over her joy. The world seemed suddenly full of inconstant people. “You must find other women to love instead,” she said, her voice light, making a joke of it.
He wasn’t amused. “That’s not funny.”
She pulled back even farther, though his arms remained loosely linked around her waist. She feigned a smile. “You could lie with a redhead one night,” she said, casting her hair back, curly and flame-colored. “Bed a blonde the next.” Now her hair was a silken river of yellow, running down her back and spilling across his arms. “Then a dark-haired girl—”
He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. “Stop it. Stop that. I don’t want other women. I want Kirra.”
She twisted free and moved away. “Kirra will do for now,” she said. “But when you can’t have Kirra—”
He followed, caught her arm. “I will wait till I can have Kirra again.”
“I won’t hold it against you,” she said. “If you take another lover while I am away. Just tell me what she looks like, so I will know what shape to assume when I creep to your bed one night in her place—”
Now he jerked her into his arms again, covering her face with kisses. His own face was riven with remorse; she thought she caught a glitter of tears in his eyes. “No one will take your place, no one,” he whispered in her ear. “Why would you talk that way? Why would you say such things?”
She could have pulled herself free or changed into some smaller shape and melted out of his arms, but she didn’t want to. She wanted him to hold her, reassure her, pledge his love. She wanted him to love her so much he was worth giving up everyone else. “Because I am so afraid,” she whispered back. “Because I love you so much and I cannot have you. Because sometimes it is easier to believe I mean very little to you, so that I can pretend you mean very little to me.”
His hands were buried in her hair, his thumbs tangling in the thick curls. His own hair was unbound and she could see its darker gold mingling with hers, falling forward to form a sort of curtain over their faces. “Then I cannot make it easier for you,” he said. “For you mean everything in the world to me, and I cannot pretend otherwise.”
He kissed her then, not allowing her to respond. She had no reply to make, anyway, nothing that expressed her feelings any better than a kiss. They fell to the bed, still embraced, still desperate, and made love as if they might never see each other again.
THE day of the ball passed, as all such days did, with a coiled laziness that would unfold to a near frenzy as the hour of the event drew near. Kirra slept late, dressed casually, and made a quick trip up to the third story of the Manor. Lyrie was curled in a tight black ball in the middle of the bed, Bella sleeping beside her with one hand tucked into the fur on the back of the spaniel’s neck.
Marco greeted her with a smile. “The medicine seems to be working already,” he said. “She passed a very restful night, and this morning she—well, she was playing like a puppy. It’s very strange. She’s an animal, a
dog
, and yet I can tell it’s Lyrie. The way she watches me, the way she comes over to sit beside me—this whole experience should be so odd, and yet it doesn’t feel odd, because I can tell it’s her.”
“But she’s better, you said? I’m so pleased!”
“I can’t even put into words how I feel,” he replied. “Or even guess how to thank you.”
“Thank me later,” she said. “When she’s well.”
Leaving the sickroom, Kirra spent a good half hour tracking down her friends, who were nowhere inside the house. She eventually found most of them—Senneth, Amalie, Valri, and Cammon—down in the gardens. They were sitting on a blanket under a huge tree, sipping lemonade, and watching other guests stroll past. Justin stood, very straight and very fierce-looking, a few paces behind them.
Kirra plopped down and said, “Doesn’t anyone ever ask who this young man is who follows the princess around everywhere? He’s certainly not a noble, and he’s
certainly
not a guard. Don’t they wonder what his function is? Can I have some lemonade?”
Senneth passed her a glass. “He’s her gigolo,” she said.
Cammon scrambled to his knees, managed a shaky head-stand, and tumbled back onto the blanket. “I’m the royal fool,” he said.
“He’s my friend,” Amalie said.
Valri gave her a stern look. “Princesses don’t have chance friends drawn from the lower classes.”
Cammon looked hurt but resolute. “Should I go, then? I will.”
Now the young queen turned her impossible green eyes on him. “No. Of course not. We rely on you to help keep Amalie safe. We just must be prepared to answer questions about you. Though none have come up so far.”
Amalie looked mutinous. “He’s my friend,” she repeated. “Just as Senneth is. And Kirra. And Justin. What’s the point of being a princess if you can’t pick your friends?”
A shadow moved over them and resolved into a man as Romar dropped to the blanket beside his niece. “As far as I can tell, there are no other advantages to being royalty,” he agreed. “So don’t let them make you give up the ones you love. Hello, sweet.” And he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.
“Well, I won’t,” Amalie said.
Kirra carefully rearranged her skirts and didn’t look at him. Romar wasn’t royalty, but perhaps the comment had been aimed at her as well.
I won’t give up the ones I love, either.
“So is everyone feeling rested and beautiful for the ball tonight?” she asked.
“Not rested, not beautiful, but
relieved
,” Valri answered in her dark voice. “Finally. The last event, and then we can go home.”
“My opinion exactly,” Senneth said. “I don’t care if I never attend another dinner or another dance as long as I live.”
“But you’re coming to the dinner party back in Ghosenhall, aren’t you?” Amalie asked a shade anxiously. “You said you would.”
Senneth smiled at her. “Yes, of course. But after that, I’m disappearing for a few weeks. No matter what favor your father asks of me. You won’t need me once you’re safe at the palace.”
Kirra thought it was highly unlikely Baryn would allow Senneth to slip away like that now that she had proved so useful, but she didn’t say so. Her attention was caught by a dark figure pacing deliberately up the flagged walkway of the garden. Tayse, dressed all in black, looking even more dangerous than Justin. Must be time for the Riders to change shifts. “ ‘Disappearing for a few weeks,’ ” she repeated thoughtfully. “Where will you be going? Will you be traveling alone? Perhaps you should bring someone with you for company.”
Senneth smiled. “Perhaps I will.”
“So, when do we leave?” Valri asked. “Tomorrow morning? I can be packed tonight by midnight.”
Kirra studied her feet. “I won’t be able to leave for a few more days,” she said, elaborately casual. “But you don’t have to wait for me.”
“And why is that?” Romar asked.
“I told you. Ariane’s granddaughter is sick. I think I need to stay until I’m sure she’s well. In case there’s—something more I can do for her.”
So I can change her back from a dog.
Cammon’s strange eyes were on her face. “I’ll wait with you,” he said. “So you don’t have to travel back alone.”
She smiled at him. He had to wait with her; she wasn’t sure she could do this by herself. “That’s kind of you.”
“The rest of us then,” Valri said. “Tomorrow?”
“I can’t,” Romar said, and Kirra’s heart skipped a beat. He would manufacture some excuse to linger at Rappen Manor a few more days, and they could travel back to Ghosenhall together. She hadn’t allowed herself to hope for that possibility; she knew he was eager to stay with his niece’s entourage. “I could go the following day, though, if you all want to wait.”
Kirra’s little flare of excitement died and she kept her eyes down so he wouldn’t see her disappointment. Senneth asked, “What keeps you here another night?”
“I’ve been invited to attend a dinner. Apparently there’s no Shadow Ball in Rappengrass, but something not too dissimilar. The marlady’s vassals and a few friends gather at a dinner party the night
after
the ball, so they can discuss everything the nobles said and did and what effect all this saying and doing might have on their own lives. I’ve been to a couple of the Shadow Balls, and it seems to please the Thirteenth House. So I said I would go to this as well.”
“I don’t think you should,” Cammon said.
There was a short pause, full of enough portentous silence that even the Riders, conferring a few feet away, turned their heads to stare. Romar looked annoyed, but Kirra could see that Senneth’s face wore an expression very like her own, full of tension and dread.
“Cam,” Senneth said in a quiet voice, “why shouldn’t the regent attend this dinner?”
“I think somebody wants to kill him.”
Amalie gasped; Valri straightened up and looked severe. Senneth motioned the Riders over and they dropped to their knees on the edges of the blanket.
“What’s wrong?” Tayse asked.
“Lord Romar says he’s been invited to a dinner party tomorrow, hosted by some of Ariane’s vassals,” Senneth said concisely. “Cammon says he shouldn’t go because someone wants to kill him.”