by Sharon Shinn
Heffel immediately caught her attention. “Lestra,” he said. “May I present another admirer? Serramarra Casserah Danalustrous, who is most desirous of meeting you.”
Coralinda was shorter than Kirra, yet Kirra still had the sense of looking up into a face some immense distance away. That the face showed a certain surprise was gratifying. “Serra,” Coralinda repeated. “I am pleased to meet any admirer from the House Danalustrous.”
She extended her hand, wrist and every finger clenched with moonstones, and Kirra held her breath as she laid her own hand against Coralinda’s. Cammon’s magic held, but barely; she felt a jolt run up her wristbones and quiver all the way down her spine. She squeezed the lioness in her pocket even more tightly, and the trembling ceased.
“Serra,” she drawled in turn, because she was not going to flatter the old hag by offering made-up titles. “I never would have expected to find you at such a frivolous event. My father has given me to think you are the most serious of women, but here you are, come to dance with the rest of us on a summer’s night.”
The frostiest smile crossed Coralinda’s face. “Not at all,” she said. “I came to see my friends among the Twelve Houses, conveniently gathered in one place.”
“I had not realized you had so many,” Kirra said.
“There is much that Danalustrous does not seem to realize,” Coralinda replied.
“Is that so?” Kirra said in a musing voice. “And yet, my father is a very observant man. I have never found much that escaped his attention.”
“Your father makes dangerous choices.”
Kirra opened her eyes very wide. “Dangerous? How? Are there armies even now headed for the Danalustrous borders? Let me know, and I will send word to my father.”
The Lestra was not amused. “He endangers his soul, Casserah. He starves it. And he feeds it instead with a diet guaranteed to make him sick.”
“You talk in riddles, serra.”
“I am not averse to plain speaking,” Coralinda replied. “Your father allies himself with mystics and offers them safe harbor. Such sorcerous association will sear his soul.”
“You speak of my sister?”
Coralinda nodded. “Your sister and others whom Malcolm has befriended. He does not realize the danger he puts himself in—himself, his heirs, and his realm.”
“I do not feel endangered.”
Coralinda leaned forward, suddenly intent. Kirra felt herself sparkle with chill, as if the Lestra herself exuded an icy air. “You are opaque,” she murmured. “You are the strange, dark daughter that no one has been able to penetrate, and even I cannot read you. But I would be glad to know you better. I would be glad to explain to you some of the glories of the goddess—and some of the perils of your own path. Come to me—tomorrow or the next day. I will visit here awhile. I will propound to you on the mysteries of the true faith.”
Kirra felt her heart pounding. She could imagine few things she was less interested in doing than having an exclusive audience with Coralinda Gisseltess to discuss the Pale Mother. But Casserah would not have hesitated; Casserah would not even have been alarmed. “Perhaps, serra,” she said. “If my party and I stay another day or two, I can take you up on this generous offer. I am interested to learn what you are so eager to teach.”
Coralinda reached up one of those bejeweled hands to trace the curve of Kirra’s cheek. Kirra felt the moonstone etch a line down the bone, barely concealed by the mortified skin. “You are young and beautiful and intelligent,” Coralinda murmured. “It is so important that the ones like you do not go astray.”
It was actually rather difficult to speak calmly. “There are others here even more young and beautiful,” she managed. “Would you like to be introduced to the princess? She is across the room and most agog to meet you.”
Coralinda’s square face sharpened with interest and she dropped her hand. “Amalie is here? Her father has released her from the prison of that walled city?”
“I do not think she considers it a prison, but yes, she is traveling. She is here now. Let me take you to her.”
“I would like that very much,” Coralinda said. Taking Kirra’s arm, she paced forward across the white star in the lapis oval, heading in Senneth’s direction.
Kirra felt heat flash up through her bones and turn her whole body into an inferno. She had the quick, irrelevant thought that this must be what it was like to be set on fire by Senneth’s magic. She actually stumbled, the pain was so intense, and Coralinda gave her an inquiring look.
“Turned my ankle,” she gasped. “My heels are too high.”
“Something else we must talk about,” Coralinda said. “The hazards posed by ridiculous fashions.” She squeezed Kirra’s hand in a friendly way, and Kirra felt her wristbones kindle within her skin.
Across the room, Cammon glanced up, looked straight at her. He murmured something to Senneth, then hurried across the dance floor to intersect with Kirra.
“There are chairs over by that wall. Let’s go sit there,” he said, guiding them in the proper direction by laying a hand across Kirra’s back.
The agonizing knife of fire throughout her body cooled into smoke and drifted away. Just with the touch of his hand on her body. She could not keep herself from sending him one quick, marveling look. He kept his eyes straight ahead, urging them forward, but she saw a tiny smile play around his mouth.
Now that was frightening. That was almost as frightening as seeing Coralinda Gisseltess at Coravann Keep. From thirty yards away, Cammon could sense her pain, and as soon as he touched her, he could make it vanish. She had never heard of anyone with power like that.
They made their way not entirely smoothly across the room, interrupted at frequent intervals by lords and ladies approaching Coralinda for a benediction. Finally, finally, they arrived at a cluster of chairs and sofas that seemed designed for some kind of intimate conference. The others, unimpeded by well-wishers, had arrived before them—not just Senneth and Amalie, but Valri, Donnal, Tayse, and even Justin.
And Romar, come to defend his niece from danger. He looked fierce, serious, and handsome, but he was not even wearing a dress sword. Kirra thought if she were making wagers on who in this group might keep Amalie safe, it would be Senneth and the Riders.
And Cammon, if the touch of moonstones burned Amalie’s skin.
Coralinda dropped Kirra’s hand and very properly curtseyed, as any serra would to royalty. Kirra took a deep breath and refused to look down at her disguised flesh, but she knew that in its proper shape it would be crisp with red welts. Amalie responded to Coralinda’s curtsey with a dignified nod. Though they had purposefully gathered around this arrangement of furniture, no one sat.
“Do you know all my friends?” Kirra asked, dying to introduce Donnal and Cammon as well as the high-ranking individuals, but deciding that even Casserah would not be so audacious. “Senneth Brassenthwaite, of course. You remember her.” Coralinda was unlikely to forget. “Queen Valri. Lord Romar Brendyn of Merrenstow. And Baryn’s daughter, Princess Amalie.”
Coralinda did not bow again, but she gave quick nods of recognition to everyone except Senneth. Her eyes moved beyond the circle of nobility to settle on the big Rider standing just a pace behind.
“Tayse,” she said, her voice sorrowful. “I am sorry to see you here among these fellows.”
“Lestra,” he replied. His face was absolutely expressionless, but Kirra would swear he was amused.
“I had hopes for you,” Coralinda continued. “You have such strength. I hate to see it corrupted.”
“I am happy where I am.”
Senneth spoke, her voice edged. “It is hardly my place to teach you manners, but you would more profitably direct your attention to the princess,” she said. “Who is most eager to make your acquaintance.”
Coralinda transferred her gaze to Amalie. Kirra had a strange moment of blurred vision when it seemed her eyes could not take in both of them at once, the dark, malevolent Lestra and the
red-gold princess, hair and dress softly gleaming in the unreliable candlelight. Beside her, she heard Cammon take a deep breath. Senneth’s face showed a moment of confusion. Then Amalie moved and the illusion was broken and everyone looked ordinary, if a little grim.
“I am charmed to meet the princess,” Coralinda said. Her voice was surprisingly beautiful; she must be hypnotic when she told a story or explained a metaphor. “You are quite beautiful.”
“And you are most impressive,” Amalie replied in her demure way. “I am glad to finally get a chance to see you face-to-face.”
“But I cannot stand here and merely mouth platitudes,” Coralinda said, and everyone standing nearby stiffened with outrage. She leaned forward but did not get so close to Amalie that the Riders put their hands on their swords. “You are in danger, princess. Take care.”
Romar made a sudden movement, as if to throw himself forward and shield Amalie with his body, but Senneth flung out a hand to hold him in place.
Amalie did not seem alarmed. “What danger? Where? Only show me and I will prepare,” she asked in her soft voice. Kirra thought suddenly, Have I been underestimating her all along because she speaks so quietly? Listen to what she says! And how she says it!
Coralinda’s voice dropped almost to a whisper, intense and persuasive. “You are surrounded on all sides by mystics, majesty. They are not to be trusted. They will harm you deliberately if they can—and even if they leave you whole, they will destroy you. They will leach away your soul. They will poison your heart. They will turn your sweet blood to black tar as it moves through your veins.”
Amalie did not look dismayed in the slightest. “I wonder why it is you have such fear of mystics, serra,” she said politely. “Have they ever harmed you in any way?”
Coralinda flinched back. “Harmed me! No. I am impervious to magic. But they have great influence with the weak and the simple-minded.”
“And you think I am weak and simple-minded?”
Absolute silence at that. No one could quite believe Amalie had said it. Senneth’s face did not change by so much as a muscle, but Kirra could almost hear her laughing. Very slowly, very carefully, Romar turned his head to give his niece a speculative appraisal.
“I do not know,” Coralinda replied somberly. “But you are practically a child still. You are easily swayed by the people around you who appear to love you and mean you well. Trust me when I say these folks are a chancre in your heart, and they will eat you from the inside.”
“What reason do I have to believe you mean me well, Coralinda?” Amalie said, and she appeared to be genuinely asking for information.
“I serve the goddess, who offers only light,” the Lestra immediately replied. “She can guide you to the true path.”
“You mean you can guide me.”
“I do.”
“I don’t trust you,” Amalie said.
There was another profound silence.
“And I don’t, in fact, believe you mean me well,” the princess continued in a conversational voice. It was as if Coralinda had proposed that she wear a blue gown to her next ball and Amalie was deciding against it for rather trivial reasons. “You are very ambitious and you are very interested in power. I cannot trust ambitious people when they are trying to claw their way closer to the throne.”
“And this lot, these adventurers and schemers you have surrounded yourself with?” Coralinda shot back. “You think they are not ambitious as well? You think they have not allied themselves to you because they are interested in power?”
Amalie actually laughed. The rest of them were frozen. “Valri is so little interested in the crown that she would disappear from the ballroom right now if she felt free to do so,” Amalie said. “Casserah would rather be in Danalustrous than anywhere else you could name, including Ghosenhall. And even you must realize that the only thing Senneth would do with temporal power is throw it away. These are not people who would steal my throne from me. They don’t want it.”
“And Romar Brendyn of Merrenstow?” Coralinda asked in a very low voice. “The regent is not interested in the throne?”
Kirra felt herself grow cold all over.
Could Coralinda Gisseltess be behind the attacks on Romar? Could that be why they had seemed so random, so disorganized, so unlike Halchon’s usual cruel efficiency? Because they had been carried out not by his ruthless and well-trained troops but by scattered individuals loyal to the Lestra and acting on her ill-defined charge? Rid me of this regent, any way you choose. It was certainly possible.
Romar answered the accusation. “No, serra,” he said. “I would not take the throne from my sister’s child. In fact, I would give my life to see that she attains it.”
“If she attains it with the aid of mystics and charlatans, she will not sit there long,” Coralinda prophesied.
“And would you be the one to try to dislodge her?” Senneth asked coolly.
Coralinda gave her a look of such hatred that even Senneth looked surprised. “I would use every means in my power to make sure she held the throne without people like you at her side.”
Senneth nodded. “So you threaten me, not Amalie. You think that sounds less like treason.”
“I do not speak treason at all. I carry the goddess’s word through Gillengaria. And the goddess abhors mystics. And mystics will all be dispersed or destroyed. And anyone who clings to mystics is likely to find her own world destroyed as well.”
“I wonder what you are so afraid of,” Amalie said.
Coralinda gave her a look of frigid fury for that. “I am afraid of nothing! Except seeing the kingdom fall into the hands of soulless men and women. Majesty, they surround you, but I can free you from their coils. Come to me at Lumanen. You will be safe there.”
And she reached out to clutch Amalie’s arm.
For a moment, Kirra’s vision wavered again. Shadows seemed to swoop in from all sides, and her whole body grew cold. Either she closed her eyes for a moment or someone moved too quickly for her to follow, for when she could focus again, Coralinda had been shoved two paces back from Amalie—and Valri was standing with her body between the women.
Valri. Not Senneth or Tayse. And her perfectly white, perfectly shaped face was strained with rage.
“Never touch her,” the queen spat out. “Never lay your hand on the princess again.”
“You’re a fool,” Coralinda said in an icy voice. “I want to save her, not harm her.”
“I am safe where I am,” Amalie said, completely unruffled. “But I think you antagonize my friends. If we are to talk again, it must be some other place and time.”
Thus with utter composure dismissing such a dangerous and angry foe! Kirra briefly lifted her gaze from Amalie’s face to meet Senneth’s eyes. “Perhaps someone can escort the Lestra back to the marlord,” Kirra suggested.
“Cammon,” Senneth snapped, and the boy stepped forward.
Coralinda made a deep, slow curtsey and surfaced, looking straight at Amalie. “Remember what I told you,” she said. “Come to me at any time.”
Amalie inclined her head. “Thank you for the offer.”
And she watched—they all watched—in silence as Cammon offered Coralinda his arm and accompanied her back across the ballroom.
“That’s the most terrifying woman I’ve ever met in my life,” Senneth said at last, breaking the silence that held them all speechless. “I can’t figure out what makes her so frightening—I can’t see how she can hurt any of us. Here. Now. And yet just seeing her makes my body tense for battle.”
Valri had moved a step away from Amalie. Kirra still couldn’t understand how she had moved so fast. “I told you. She’s evil,” the queen said.
Senneth nodded. “Oh, yes. And the more so because she believes she’s good.”
“If it makes you feel any better, she’s afraid of you, too,” Amalie said in her soft voice.
Senneth turned to look at her. They all did. “What I don’t understand is why you aren’
t afraid of her,” Senneth said slowly. “Or were you just pretending?”
Amalie looked surprised. “Why would I be afraid? What can she do to me? Especially with all of you standing right here?”
Senneth still watched her, puzzlement on her face. “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know.”
“Speaking in more practical terms,” Kirra said, “did anyone think she was threatening Lord Romar? She all but came out and accused him of coveting the throne.”
“I don’t think she’s very interested in me,” Romar said. “It’s the rest of you she wants to see disposed of.”
