by Jenna Glass
“All right,” he agreed—for unlike so many others she had known in her life, he seemed to take it for granted that she knew best how to manage her blindness. She couldn’t count the number of times well-meaning servants—and even on occasion her father—had insisted on putting their hands on her to help even when she’d tried to refuse.
Kailee smiled to herself as Tynthanal entered the stairway, putting one hand on each wall to show her the width. He walked at a comfortable pace, not taking exaggerated care, trusting her to let him know if she needed him to slow down. She imagined that if circumstances had been different—if she hadn’t come into the marriage knowing full well that his heart already belonged to another—she might have fallen in love with him already.
After the promised brief stop by the kitchens to reassure the hardworking cook, they continued their journey downward to the palace’s lowest level.
Kailee could tell they were getting closer to the Well by the increasing concentration of elements present in the air all around them. She had never been tested for magical talent—women never were in more traditional societies, and she hadn’t yet gotten around to it in Women’s Well—but she was nonetheless aware that she was well above average, based on the number of elements she could see. In Women’s Well, where the vast majority of elements were feminine or neuter, the air near the Well was so thick with elements she sometimes had to strain to pick out the auras of Rho that indicated life. Here in Aaltah, where the Well produced at least as many masculine elements as feminine ones, the air seemed thinner, the elemental motes drifting far enough apart that Tynthanal’s aura shone clearly.
Tynthanal turned toward her and held out his arm. “This is the Well’s antechamber, and there are still some rocks and other debris on the floor.”
She accepted the offered arm and allowed Tynthanal to guide her through the antechamber. Occasionally, he kicked aside small rocks on which she might have twisted her ankle, and she felt a glow of appreciation for his thoughtfulness.
Across the room, she saw the aura of a palace guard moving and heard a sound she recognized as the scrape of a key in a lock, then the lifting of a bar. Moments later, a door creaked open.
Kailee felt the characteristic hum of the Well under her feet as they crossed the threshold into the Well chamber itself. She had no concept of how much debris must be in the room, but the concentration of elements told her exactly where the Well was located.
Tynthanal came to a stop only a couple of steps into the room. “It’s best we keep our distance,” he said. “They’ve cleared some of the worst of it, but there are enough loose rocks and pebbles to make footing dangerous.”
Kailee nodded her agreement as she scanned the room with her Mindseye. She had no need to proceed any farther.
“Why are you smiling?” Tynthanal asked.
She pointed toward an area off to the right of the Well, her pulse quickening with joy. Her desire to come to the Well—even knowing it was full of rubble—had been based on more than idle curiosity. “Because I can see a few motes of Nex over there, and unless I’m very much mistaken, Nex naturally occurs only in Women’s Well.”
She could feel Tynthanal’s astonishment in the sudden jerk of his muscle. “I can see nothing but a pile of rubble. Even when I look with my Mindseye.”
Kailee cautioned herself not to get too excited. Her Mindsight might have revealed what she had hoped to be the case—that Mairah had brought one or more magic items to the Well and that they were still there—but that didn’t mean Kailee would be able to figure out exactly what they did or what had befallen the Well. And even if she could learn what had happened, there was no guarantee she would like the answer.
Kailee did not believe that Mairah was the wicked, evil woman everyone else believed her to be, but she did allow some room for the possibility that she was mistaken. Maybe Mairah had willfully damaged the Well out of nothing but sheer spite and malice. But she refused to accept that as the truth until she’d uncovered clear and certain evidence of it.
“There are a number of other feminine elements gathered close to the Nex. Do you see a cluster of Rai motes?”
“I do,” Tynthanal said. He was the only man she’d ever known or even heard of who could see some feminine elements. “I assumed that was just a naturally occurring cluster.”
Kailee shook her head. “Not based on the number of feminine elements I see around them. I suspect when your men clear that area, they’ll find whatever spells Mairah may have brought with her to the Well. It seems likely that would help us figure out what went wrong.”
Kailee had not known her husband very long, but even so she could not miss the slight tension that tightened the muscles of the arm she held.
“And don’t worry,” she added. “I am aware there is some chance I won’t like the answer, but I’m willing to risk it.”
He let out a soft sigh. “Very well. I’ll have them start in the morning.”
Kailee had not been raised in a tradition of great faith, but even so she said a silent prayer to the Creator and the Mother that she would find the evidence she needed to clear the name of the woman she had failed.
CHAPTER TWO
Alys was in her sitting room in the residential wing of her palace, eyes glazing over as she read through her treasurer’s latest financial report, when one of the talkers on the mantelpiece behind her chirped.
Rubbing her bleary eyes, Alys glanced over her shoulder at the neat row of talkers, expecting the sound to have come from the blue-and-white one that was paired with Queen Ellinsoltah’s. The Queen of Rhozinolm often reached out to her at odd hours, especially late at night. After all, as sovereigns, they had similarly grueling schedules that did not often leave them free for spontaneous conversations.
But the chirping flier was painted in black and gold: Tynthanal’s colors. Alys bit her lip, embarrassed at the trepidation that spread through her as she approached the mantel and reached for the talker. She had received a brief letter from her brother when he had arrived in Aaltah to become the prince regent, but nothing since then. He had assured her when he’d left Women’s Well that he was doing his best to forgive her for not allowing him to marry Chanlix, but it had been abundantly clear to both of them that he had not yet managed it. She was not anxious to face their newly chilly and formal relationship.
Placing the talker on the desk before her, Alys opened her Mindseye and fed a mote of Rho into it to complete the connection. When she closed her Mindseye once more, a miniature image of her brother hovered in the air before her.
He looked almost as tired as she felt, his eyes shadowed as he narrowly suppressed a yawn. Alys glanced down at the treasurer’s report and wondered just how long she’d been staring at it without actually absorbing anything. Her eyes ached with weariness, and she should have gone to bed hours ago. However, if she didn’t work herself to the very brink of exhaustion each night, she would lie abed with her mind churning and her heart aching until she sprang up once more. She had never felt so utterly alone before, and sometimes she wasn’t sure how she could continue to endure it.
Tynthanal’s eyes narrowed in what looked like concern. “I didn’t truly expect to find you up at this hour,” he said.
Had he perhaps hoped she wouldn’t be up, so that he could tell himself he’d done his fraternal duty in reaching out to her and been thwarted through no fault of his own? “It’s nice to hear from you,” she said, and her throat instantly tightened. She missed her brother more than she could say, and that pain and longing was made ever so much worse by Corlin’s absence and her continuing battle with her grief over Jinnell’s death—a battle in which she could never triumph.
His eyes flicked briefly downward in what might have been guilt. “I’m sorry I’ve taken so long to reach out,” he said. “I’ve been very busy, as you might well imagine.”
“Yes,” she responded
. She was certain he was indeed kept very busy, but that was not the reason it had taken him so long to contact her. “How are things going? And how is Kailee settling in?”
He smiled faintly. “The court doesn’t know quite what to do with her, but I’ve found she’s more than capable of taking care of herself. I’ve become an expert at feigning obtuseness when people suggest, ever so subtly, that I ought to rein her in and make her behave like a proper lady.”
Alys grimaced in sympathy. “In other words, they want you to hide her away somewhere so they don’t have to be made uncomfortable by her open Mindseye…or by her free spirit.”
He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I’m sure that’s what they mean, but as I have no intention of doing any such thing, I don’t much care. We went down to explore the Well chamber together, and Kailee saw a couple of motes of Nex under some of the rubble. I ordered that section of the chamber cleared, and I expect we’ll know what’s under there in a day or two. All thanks to Kailee.”
Alys was gratified to see the spark of pride in his eyes, and she smiled, imagining Kailee’s triumph at the discovery—although she hoped the girl would not be disappointed by what the searchers found. Kailee hoped to find evidence that Mairahsol had not intentionally damaged the Well, that she’d been acting out of some kind of selflessness—a difficult concept for anyone who’d known the late Abbess of Khalpar to swallow. Whatever was under the rubble was unlikely to clear Mairahsol’s name, despite Kailee’s optimism.
“But I did find something else that I wanted to tell you about,” Tynthanal continued, holding up a small glass vial. He held it out to the talker, bringing the flaky red-brown substance inside it into clearer view. “There was a fair amount of what looks like dried blood in the Well’s antechamber,” he said, setting the vial back down again. “Everyone says there must have been some kind of a struggle between Melcor, Delnamal, and Mairahsol at the Well, but I have yet to hear a convincing explanation for why the blood was outside the Well chamber. If a struggle occurred, I’d have expected it to be inside. And though there’s a substantial amount of blood, it does not appear to be enough to indicate a fatal wound. Nor have any bodies been recovered.”
Alys shivered in a sudden chill. “So you think Delnamal might still be alive?”
He examined her face with an unnerving intensity, and she could not blame him for being wary of her reaction. When she had received the news that Delnamal was dead, she’d been torn between jubilation and devastation. She wanted her half-brother dead, but she wanted him to suffer—as he had made her suffer—before his death.
“Let’s just say I would not entirely rule out the possibility,” Tynthanal responded. “Especially considering Xanvin is nowhere to be found. I would not have been shocked if she’d decided to return to Khalpar after his death, but I am shocked she left so fast and without telling anyone.”
Alys had also been surprised when she’d heard that her stepmother had departed Aalwell so swiftly, but she had attributed it to the ravages of a mother’s grief. No matter how much she herself might hate Delnamal, there was no question in her mind that his mother had loved him with all her heart, and expecting her to observe social niceties when she was in the depths of grief seemed unrealistic. But if Delnamal hadn’t died that day—had in fact only been wounded—then Xanvin’s disappearance took on a whole different meaning.
“I am trying to reassure Oona of my good intentions,” Tynthanal continued, “and I hope that over time I might win some of her confidence. However, at the moment, she remains convinced I am the enemy. She flinches whenever I speak to her, and she claims to have no idea where Delnamal or Xanvin might be. And she would sooner cast herself from a tower window than let me get within arm’s reach of our infant king.”
He held up the vial of dried blood again. “I was wondering if perhaps the Women’s Well Academy might research the possibility of developing a spell to identify a blood sample. If it is indeed Delnamal’s blood outside the Well chamber, the royal council might permit me to question Oona more formally. I’m certain she knows more than she’s telling.”
Alys sat back and frowned, thinking about it. She was too newly come to the practice of magic to consider herself an expert—despite her considerable natural talent—but it seemed that such a spell ought to be within the realm of possibility. “Perhaps some alteration to a paternity test potion,” she mused. The paternity test potion was much like the one used to analyze bloodlines for compatibility in marriage. Blood from both parties was combined with the potion, with the subsequent color change indicating the result. “I don’t suppose you have a sample of our father’s blood lying around?”
He smiled politely at the feeble jest. “I could ask the women of the new Abbey to work on a potion to compare the sample with my own blood, but…” He ended with a grimace and a shrug.
Alys had heard that Aaltah had rebuilt its Abbey after the late King Aaltyn had razed it, but the place was peopled with novice abigails who would not have the knowledge and experience to devise new potions. Not to mention that she—and, she was sure, her brother—was reluctant to make demands of women who were to all intents and purposes imprisoned.
“No,” Alys said with a shake of her head. “We’ll handle it here at the Academy. I’ll contact you as soon as I know something, and then hopefully you can send the blood sample here via flier.”
“Thank you.” He reached up and rubbed his eyes. “I would rest easier if we could be sure he is dead. I keep hoping the workers will find a body under all that rubble. There were four people down there! How can we not have found a single body yet?”
“How are you faring otherwise?” she asked, for he looked both tired and stressed, the lines of his face pinched with worry. As a former lieutenant commander in Aaltah’s army, he had more experience with leadership than Alys ever had, but his ambitions had never included the throne. Being the regent—having all of the responsibility of a king with a great deal less of the power—was no doubt wearing on him as much as the crown of Women’s Well was wearing on her.
“As well as can be expected,” he said in a tone that made it clear that was all he had to say about it.
Alys swallowed the urge to press. This had been a civil and productive conversation—the easiest they’d had since she had first suggested the marriage with Kailee—and she was reluctant to strain it further. They would likely never return to the easy camaraderie they had once shared, so she would have to learn to be happy with what he could give her.
* * *
—
Mother Leethan reluctantly lit a fire in her hearth. Even in the height of summer, the nights were chilly high in the mountains, where Nandel’s Abbey of the Unwanted clung to the side of a rocky peak. Ordinarily, Leethan would stockpile wood for the colder weather, warming herself by adding a woolen kirtle under her robes instead. But Prince Waldmir expected to see her living in comfort thanks to the generous contributions he had made to the Abbey since he’d divorced her, and it was a dangerous thing to disappoint his expectations.
A red-robed abigail knocked softly on the door of her office. “He has arrived, Mother,” the girl said, and there could be no doubting to which “he” she referred.
Leethan glanced around the office one more time, hoping she hadn’t forgotten anything. He always intended the gifts he’d brought over the years to be for her use exclusively, but she had a habit of sharing them. Whenever he paid a visit, she had to make sure she retrieved everything so that it would be on display when he arrived. She noticed that she’d forgotten to retrieve the snowy white ermine mantle she’d tucked around Sister Jaizal, her old friend who was currently suffering from an ague. It was against the law for an abigail to wear anything but the red robes and cloaks that were the uniform of the Abbey, but Waldmir had insisted he would never allow Leethan to be prosecuted for wearing his gift. Which was likely true, but she couldn’t imagine wearing
such a thing in the Abbey, so she always loaned it out as a bed covering for ailing abigails. She hoped he would not notice it wasn’t here on display as it usually was.
“Show him up,” she said, rubbing her palms nervously against her robes. These periodic visits were never truly comfortable for either one of them, but though she’d told him numerous times that he need not make them, still he kept coming. Perhaps it helped assuage the guilt that still haunted him despite his having remarried an unthinkable three times since he’d divorced her. And still, he was on the hunt for yet another new bride, his desperation to have a son growing greater as each year passed.
It had been several months since his last visit, which told her that his search for his next wife was not going well—and that he did not currently have a mistress. He’d been a lusty, vital man through his youth and most of his middle age, but more than a decade ago, he had confided in her that he sometimes had difficulty performing in the marital bed. And age had not improved his condition.
These days, his visits to the Abbey were as much the product of necessity as sentimentality. Although women’s magic was legally forbidden even in the Abbey in Nandel, Leethan had learned how to make potency potions that she had provided for him on a regular basis. She wondered if his decision to visit now meant that he’d once more found a woman he wanted to bed, and she hated that even decades after their divorce, the thought of him bedding another produced a flare of jealousy.
That jealousy all but disappeared when Waldmir appeared in her doorway, for the months since she’d last seen him had not been kind. He was even thinner than usual, his beard a starker shade of white, his eyes more shadowed. For the first time, he looked to her eyes like an old man. Leethan’s heart fluttered with panic. How much time could she possibly have left to ensure that the visions she’d seen as a young bride did not come to pass?
Growing up in Grunir, Leethan had known that she would be a seer when she came of age. Although it was considered a “dirty” secret that no one talked about openly, both of Leethan’s grandmothers had been seers, and though Leethan’s mother had rejected the tradition, she had not stopped those old women from training Leethan once it had been clear that she had inherited the talent.
