by Amy Raby
However, she shared his disappointment that they would have no privacy. That had been part of the magic of the Riorcan wilds, a time that had been physically stressful and frightening, yet which she nonetheless regarded with wistful longing. For once in their lives, she and Rayn had been entirely on their own. They’d made their own decisions with no one watching, no one protecting, no one judging.
At the stables, Rayn mounted his blood bay, and Celeste swung up onto the smoke gray gelding she’d ridden on the mountain during the volcanic eruption. The grooms produced two additional horses for the guards, and they set off. Patricus loped at their side.
They wound their way through the streets of Tiasa. The Tiasan townsfolk did not scatter aside in fear, but actively engaged Rayn, calling his name and waving to him. He answered them with waves of his own and the Inyan greeting, “Gama!” It had no translation in Kjallan but meant something along the lines of “I see you.” This interaction with the people in the streets was a new experience for Celeste. When Kjallan imperials rode into Riat, their bodyguards surrounded them, and everyone scrambled out of their way. Most Kjallan civilians, especially those living outside of Riat, wouldn’t recognize their rulers on sight, since the imperial family left the palace grounds infrequently and rarely spoke to anyone outside the nobility and the military command structure. Lucien’s profile was on the Kjallan tetral, but the iconic representation didn’t look much like him.
Yet Rayn was known to his people not as an image on a coin but as a living, breathing man. The townsfolk recognized him and apparently liked him. He must have spent a great deal more time in Tiasa than she or Lucien ever had in Riat. The thought intrigued her. What would it be like to be queen here, in a country where the people would actually know her?
She steered her horse alongside Rayn’s. “The people here seem to like you.”
“I’ve been popular since that business with the King’s Lands,” he said. “And it doesn’t hurt that I’m a Fireturner.”
Of course Rayn would be loved by his people when he served them in such a direct and useful way. Sadly, she could think of no equally visible service that Lucien and Vitala provided for the people of Kjall. Not that they weren’t excellent rulers; they were some of the best Kjall had ever possessed. But their work wasn’t so visible. They kept Kjall out of wars, rebuilt its neglected infrastructure, weeded out corrupt bureaucrats, and trained retired soldiers in new skills.
She had no idea what the people of Kjall thought of her or of Lucien or of Vitala. Maybe her family could take some lessons from the Inyans. They could be less aloof and more personable toward the townsfolk. Perhaps the men of the Mathematical Brotherhood had rejected Celeste not simply because she was a woman, but because she was an imperial, and the imperials weren’t popular in Kjall.
They left the city and cantered down a road of soft dirt, riding abreast. Trees overhung the road, while ferns and bushes crowded close to the edges. The jungle loomed over and around them, not overtly threatening, yet quietly asserting its power. She felt the jungle would, given half an opportunity, swallow up this road entirely.
Rayn turned his horse off the main path, and she fell in behind him since there was no room to ride abreast. They traveled a ways, and Rayn pulled up his horse. She yanked on the reins as her horse ran up against the blood bay’s hind end.
They were pinned between two rocky cliffs, each overhung with vegetation. The cliffs converged on their position, blocking further progress, but ahead, a rock tunnel carved its way through the cliff face. A pair of guards stood before the tunnel, which surprised Celeste since Inya used so few guards in general. Why station two of them way out here? Rayn spoke to one of them in rapid-fire Inyan. He glanced back at Celeste with a nod of invitation and urged his horse forward into the tunnel at a walk.
She followed. It was cool in the cave, but not dark. She could see daylight up ahead. The clops of her horse’s footfalls changed to pats as the ground beneath them transitioned from stone to sand. They emerged from the tunnel into the sun. Celeste sneezed at its bright glare and blinked at the white sand beach that lay before them. Beyond it, the ocean glittered as if a thousand sapphires were strewn across its surface.
Patricus, upon spotting the water, barked in delight. He dashed forward a few yards and turned to stare at Celeste, his head cocked and his body poised for action.
“Go,” she said, granting him permission, and he raced for the water.
Rayn grinned as he awaited her reaction to the scenery.
“It’s beautiful,” she said.
“And it’s private,” he said. “Reserved for the exclusive use of the royal family.”
“Are these King’s Lands?” she asked.
“No, the King’s Lands are public,” said Rayn. “This is something else. Look, you’ll see there’s no access to this beach at all except through the tunnel. Or by boat, I suppose, if you want to sail around all this way.”
She clucked to her gelding, who stepped out onto the beach. The animal’s hooves sank into the deep sand. Right away she saw what Rayn was talking about. This wasn’t an open beach, stretching away endlessly on either side, but a sheltered cove enclosed by two rocky cliffs. Nearby was a cluster of palm trees, providing a bit of shade. “Let’s put the horses over there,” she suggested. She wanted to feel sand between her toes.
Beneath the palm trees, they dismounted and handed their reins to the Legaciatti. “Stay here,” Celeste ordered them. “I want to walk with Rayn by the water, alone. I don’t think we’re in any danger.”
“Your Imperial Highness—” Atella protested.
“Look around,” said Celeste. “The whole place is enclosed. No one can touch us here.”
Atella nodded grudging acquiescence.
Celeste kicked off her shoes.
Rayn took her hand and led her out onto the sand. “Let’s see if the ocean has left us any gifts.”
The sun, still low in the morning sky, was warm but not blistering. Later she might wish for Rayn’s magic to cool them down, but for now the air was pleasant. Patricus, spotting them, came in from the ocean, shook off the seawater, and gamboled about the beach, sniffing at everything.
Celeste’s feet sank into the sand as they walked, but as they neared the water, the sand became firmer. They reached the water’s edge. A shallow wave rolled over her feet, tickling her toes.
Rayn glanced back at the guards, who were out of hearing range by now. “I think we’ve enough privacy to talk now. Will you tell me why you came to Inya? When I left Riorca, your brother was adamantly opposed to our having any further contact.”
“I wish I could say he’d changed his mind, but the truth is I’m here without his consent. He wouldn’t let me come, so I stole his ship.”
Rayn stared at her. “You stole his ship?”
“I did.”
“But the empress is with you.”
“She caught me stealing it and decided to go with me. That makes this trip somewhat official, I suppose. But we don’t have Lucien’s support, and I expect he will come looking for me as soon as he manages to find a way here. When he arrives, he’s not going to be happy.”
Rayn eyed her. “Why did you want to come?”
“You know already that Bayard was behind the assassination attempts. After you left, we persuaded him to confess, and we learned a few things. One of them was that Zoe was in his service. I felt we had to warn you immediately.”
“You came here to warn me about Zoe.”
“Yes.”
A line appeared in the middle of his forehead. “Was that your only reason?”
Celeste’s cheeks warmed as she looked down at the sand. “I might have had another reason.”
Rayn lowered his hand into the shallow water. He grasped something and shook it in the water to rinse off the sand. “I believe the ocean did give us a gift.” He examined t
he object, and then, smiling, he placed it in Celeste’s hand.
It was a shell of a variety she’d never seen before, flat on one side and rounded on the other. The flat side opened into what looked like a toothy mouth. The rounded side was smooth and glossy white, encircled with a bright band of gold.
“It’s a ring cowrie,” said Rayn. “My ancient ancestors used them as currency.”
“Cowrie? Isn’t that the word for the Inyan coin?”
“It is,” said Rayn, “and now you know why.”
Celeste turned the shell over and over in her hands. It did make a nice makeshift coin, of sorts. It was small and pleasant to hold and distinctively marked with that gold ring. She could imagine carrying a pocketful of these as currency.
“This is the actual coin.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a silver Inyan cowrie, and handed it to her. “See the ring on the back?”
She turned the coin over. It was marked with a golden ring, like the shell. “How interesting. I couldn’t tell you where the Kjallan tetral comes from.” She handed both coin and shell back to Rayn.
He accepted the coin but pressed the shell into her hand. “Keep it. It’s my gift to you.”
Though it was a small thing, she felt oddly touched. As an imperial princess, she was no stranger to gifts. On her birthdays she was practically buried in expensive presents by nobles and military officials hoping to curry imperial favor. Yet none of those gifts had any meaning. She would have traded them all for this tiny shell, because Rayn had found it and freely offered it to her.
“How did you get Bayard to confess?” asked Rayn.
Celeste told him the story: how the Order of the Sage had searched Bayard’s house and discovered the letters from his secret wife, which Celeste had deciphered. How she’d interrogated the wife using mind magic. How Justien and his people had found the hidden enclave and arrested Bayard’s coconspirators, and Bayard had agreed to talk so that his wife and children might go free. “He also told us he’d been hired by Councilor Worryn to assassinate you. Be careful around that man. He’s not just a political enemy—he literally wants you dead.”
Rayn stopped walking. “So Worryn’s behind everything?”
“Bayard said as much under truth spell. Worryn paid Bayard to somehow secure an heir from you and then assassinate you on foreign soil. It was planned well in advance. Zoe was sent here years ago as part of a plan that was to unfold over a long period of time.”
“But Zoe—the heir—are you telling me Zoe’s not even Inyan?”
“Correct,” said Celeste. “She’s Riorcan. She was born in Riorca and trained as an assassin there, by Bayard himself—the same man who trained the empress. She was taught your language by an Obsidian Circle enclave. And she’s a fully qualified mage.”
“What sort of mage?”
“Wardbreaker. Like Vitala, she carries Shards, tiny weapons that she keeps hidden in the Rift until she needs them. The Shards are spelled. If she stabs you with one and breaks the ward on it, the spell takes effect. Usually it’s a death spell. And she’ll have learned other skills at the enclave as well.”
“Such as what?” His mouth twisted. “Seduction?”
Celeste swallowed. “I was thinking combat skills. I don’t really know what else.” Vitala was rather guarded when talking about her Obsidian Circle training.
“This is a lot for me to think about.” He looked out at the ocean. “Will you give me a moment?”
“Of course.” She’d had the entire voyage, plus several additional days, to accept this new reality herself—and it didn’t affect her personally as much as it did Rayn. She couldn’t imagine how he must feel, knowing that a woman he’d once loved, or at least been attracted to, had seduced him entirely for the purpose of doing him harm. That the woman had lied to him from the first day she’d met him. “I can go back to the trees if you like.” She glanced at the Legaciatti, who watched them from beneath the stand of palms.
“No, just . . .” He gestured vaguely. “Away from the water.”
Celeste retreated inland past the tide line and sat in the soft sand.
Rayn waded through the waves into deeper water, where he stopped and stood motionless. His back was stiff, his muscles rounded and tense. She wished she could rub his shoulders and release some of that tension, but she’d promised to leave him alone.
He reached into the water and pulled something out—a rock or a shell. He drew back, winding up with his whole body, and flung the object out into the sea. It landed with a faint splash in the distance. He reached into the water and swirled his hand around again. This time he came up with a handful of dripping sand. He flung that.
Celeste dropped her gaze to the sand. It felt wrong to stare.
A translucent crab, no wider than the tip of her thumb, skittered sideways past her foot. Clutching a single large claw defensively across its body, it raced across the sand and disappeared into a tiny hole. She watched the hole, curious to see if the crab would come out again. Staring closely at the ground, she saw that much of what she thought of as sand was actually minuscule seashells.
At length, she heard footsteps, and Rayn dropped his huge body onto the sand beside her.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“I’m going to kill her,” said Rayn. “I’m going to wring that woman’s gods-cursed neck.”
“We’ll find her,” said Celeste, “and bring her to justice.”
“I can’t believe I had a baby with her!” he cried. “That’s the worst of it. I feel like the biggest fool who ever walked this island, first of all for getting involved with her, and second for letting my fertility ward drop—”
“You didn’t let your fertility ward drop,” said Celeste. “She broke the ward. She’s a wardbreaker.”
“Three gods,” he groaned. “Of course she did.” He dropped his head into his hands. “I always took her for a sapskull, which shows how much I know. That woman played me like a lute.”
Celeste took his hand, interleaving her fingers with his. “You were young, and you were conspired against by people who were well practiced in the art. The Circle’s been doing this kind of thing for decades. Remember that my brother was fooled in exactly the same way by Vitala, when she worked for the Obsidian Circle. And Lucien’s the smartest man I know.”
“You know why I feel like such a sapskull?” Rayn shook his head miserably. “I thought I was helping her. Saving her, you know? I found her in that bar, with that black eye her father had given her—gods, even the black eye and the father must have been a lie!—and I thought, here is something I can do. I can help this woman. I can turn the lava for her, keep her safe.” He sighed heavily. “She must have known that would draw me in, the desire to save her. She must have been laughing at me the whole time.”
“She exploited one of your best traits,” said Celeste. “That doesn’t make you a sapskull. It makes her a bad person. And consider this: she hasn’t succeeded. Every assassination attempt thus far has failed, so how much do you think she’s really laughing right now?”
He squeezed her hand. “You’re a kind woman, to still want to help me after all this.”
She bumped his hip with her own. “Kindness has nothing to do with it.”
His forehead wrinkled. “I don’t think Zoe’s actually attempted to assassinate me yet. I’ve seen her twice, once here and once in Riorca, and she didn’t pull any Shards on me either time.”
“Did you let her get close? You’re big and strong, and your magic is powerful. She could never kill you in a fair fight. She’d want to get close and distract you so that she could strike without your having the opportunity to fight back.”
Rayn frowned. “You have a point. She constantly tries to lure me back into bed.”
“If you’d slept with her, you’d probably be dead now. Tell me about Inyan law. How do we bring treason charge
s against Worryn?”
“Through the court system. Lornis will know; he’s a magister. But I can’t do it yet. I’ve no proof.”
“What proof do you need?”
Rayn shrugged. “A confession from Worryn would do it. Or physical evidence, like letters he wrote to Bayard. Or a witness who condemns him.”
“I could be your witness,” said Celeste.
“Not good enough,” said Rayn. “You heard Bayard accuse Worryn, but you didn’t see Worryn himself do anything or confess to anything.”
“That’s true,” she admitted. “What about Bayard as a witness?”
“Bayard might suit,” said Rayn. “Even better if he could lead us to some physical evidence, like letters exchanged between the two of them.”
Now Celeste felt like the sapskull. If only she’d brought Bayard with her on the Soldier’s Sweep. Instead he was back in Riorca, where he could do them no good at all. And they could hardly walk into Worryn’s private rooms and start looking through his letters.
“Let’s talk about your ratification vote,” she said. “How can I help you win it?”
“You want to help?”
“Of course I do! I want you to be in charge of Inya, not that treasonous worm.”
“Lornis will have all kinds of ideas for you. The Tiasan merchants, for example, want a trade agreement with Kjall, and if you talked to them, you could assure them we’re making progress on that front.” His brow wrinkled. “I hate to overpromise. Do you think a trade agreement might be possible? Maybe with some limits on the amount of brimstone traded? Your brother was upset with me in Riorca.”
“Lucien may be upset, but he absolutely wants the trade agreement.”
Rayn squeezed her hand. “And what about the marriage?” he asked softly. “Does he still want that?”
Celeste tensed. “I’m not sure.”
