“Or maybe they tracked it here and came to hunt it. Do you think I could speak with the travelers?” he asked.
“No,” Collette said. “If you have information, take it to the Prince of Health. This is not Protocol, you coming to me like this!”
Her vision blurred and she saw the Palace collapsing. This was the third time today this premonition had stolen her breath. At first, she thought it was triggered by anxiety over Corin. Magistrate used to be a hereditary office, but it had become an elected office when the early Festivals caused confusion about the bloodlines. Even though Corin could not inherit the title from her, she’d imagined passing it on to him ever since he announced an interest in prince training. Watching him fall apart these past months had killed that dream.
“What did you see?” the doctor asked. Her head flopped against his chest, and she realized she’d fainted. “Shall I call the Prince of Health?”
“Yes,” she said, breaking out of his grip and sinking to the floor. Gossard tried to help her, but she swatted him away. Somehow, it felt like he was triggering the premonition. She wanted to call for help, but she could barely catch her breath.
“Has the intensity of your premonition gotten worse since the travelers arrived at the Palace?” he asked.
Collette nodded. Her vision blurred again, and this time, she saw a person. Then she saw a raptor-like spirit tearing out of the human body. The visions became more confusing from there.
“If you would allow me to attend this venue tonight, I could watch them and perhaps better understand this effect you’ve experienced,” Gossard offered. “I recognize far more cursed than are publicly registered.”
“I’ll tell the Magistrate to expect you at the Palace tonight,” she agreed, rubbing her chest, trying to sound calm and strong. She just wanted him gone. “Warn the other cursed ones whose confidence you keep. I don’t want these spirits to claim our lives as well.”
16
Corin’s heart was racing. For the first time since the fire, he had a genuine smile on his face, and he was excited to do his work. Most of his tailors were home preparing for Festival, but he’d easily found two who wanted a chance to meet the visitors. Corin had been able to eye the measurements of six of them from his window, and gathered samples from his workshop in the Palace. Helia brought additional trims and robes from her workshop.
There were two service officers sitting on the floor outside the guest wing, playing cards and talking about their plans for the evening. One glowered threateningly at Corin, but the other hopped to his feet and bowed courteously. The aged bruises on Corin’s neck throbbed painfully, and if he hadn’t had his team here, he would’ve turned back. Belgard wasn’t the only one who wanted him to burn.
“Chief Torrance says they are to be left alone,” the second officer said.
“The Magistrate asked me to clothe them for Festival. Myself, Helia, and Glassier are granted access,” Corin replied, his hand shaking as he showed them the tablet with the order. There were butterflies in his stomach. He was so excited that he forgot to ring before letting himself into the suite, and he stood in the doorway, enthralled by the strangers. Two sat on the bed, one wearing a bath robe, the other unconsciously stroking her cheek against the sheet. Two were out in the courtyard and the other four were having an argument. They weren’t speaking Trade. They all had at least one glove with a device embedded, and earpieces that might have been for communication.
Corin glanced at his companions. Glassier was too young for Festival, but an amazing tailor. Her thumb moved up and down as she instinctively sized the women. Helia was doing the same for the men, though her arms were laden with bags of trim. Her tongue clicked against her teeth. They had less than two hours to make these people presentable.
Corin approached a man with long, golden gloves, assuming he was the leader, and tapped him on the shoulder. The man had silky, dark brown skin and separated easily from the group of bickerers. His sleeveless jacket was closed, concealing a wine stain on his shirt. The clothing looked ratty up close, but the man seemed to glow with regality.
“We would like to gift you with the appropriate attire for Festival,” Corin said, trying to match the cadence of Trade that he’d heard earlier.
The man broke into a wide, relieved smile. “How wonderful. Thank you, um—”
Corin’s jaw flapped. He’d gotten so excited, he’d forgotten the Protocol for introductions. “Prince of Textiles,” he said quickly.
“Tray Matthews. Ambassador of Quin,” Tray replied, giving a slight bow to match Corin’s. Corin had heard the others using informal names earlier. They didn’t call each other by title.
“This is—” Tray turned, but realized the others were still arguing and he rubbed his brow. “Sorry. Do you have siblings?”
“I have two,” Corin said, smiling at how easily they connected. The more Tray spoke, the easier it was to speak like him. “Yours are causing you grief?”
“Nothing new clothes won’t cure,” Tray said, fingering the wine stain on his shirt.
“Then allow me to cure you,” Corin said, motioning Tray to the clothing rack. He’d brought a white robe with red accents for Tray, but Tray walked right up to a blue robe that was far too large for him.
“You seem partial to that color,” Corin said, noticing the peacock blue accents on Tray’s navy suit. If he put Tray in that color, he’d have to adjust the palette he’d selected for the other pairs.
Tray ran his fingers over the swirl design on the suit. “My mother wore it a lot.”
“Festival is not a time to think about our mothers,” Corin said.
“There never is time, is there?” Tray murmured, putting the suit back on the rack. He crossed his arms defensively. “Sorry. My mother died when I was a child.”
“That is tragic. Would you like to talk about her now?” Corin asked. “I can listen.”
“She liked to wear this blue scarf. That’s what I remember. Danny tells me stories,” Tray said. Corin looked to the group and Tray pointed to a tall, caramel-skinned man. “My brother.”
“You grew up together?” Corin asked. They looked about as related as Corin and his half-brother.
Tray shook his head, getting sad again. “We were separated after she died. If my dad hadn’t taken off, I don’t know that I ever would have gone looking. I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t be dumping these things on you—”
“No father or mother? I can’t imagine!” Corin exclaimed, worried what Festival wine would do to someone with a story so tragic. In a fit of sympathy, he threw his arms around Tray.
“Whoa!” Tray shouted, startled. He jumped free of Corin’s embrace and suddenly the three Tray had been arguing with had weapons trained on Corin. They weren’t supposed to be armed.
“I apologize,” Corin said, backing away, hands raised. The women had jumped off the bed and the two from the courtyard ran inside. Helia crouched behind Corin and Glassier ducked into the clothing rack.
“It’s okay,” Tray said, motioning the others to lower their weapons. “Good way to get people’s attention. Everyone, this is the Prince of Textiles. He’s here to dress us for the party.”
“The hug was an impulse. I did not mean to insult your people. I am sorry I broke Protocol. Please only punish me and not my assistants,” Corin said, bowing apologetically and dropping to his knees, bracing himself for a physical punishment. It was his fault for breaking Protocol, but this wasn’t how he wanted to die.
“Punish?” Tray laughed. “For what? Being compassionate? Just give us the clothes!”
Corin felt a hand raising his chin, and then he was looking into the hazel eyes of the golden-skinned man. Every one of these visitors looked so different from each other. The man had on a red skirt that clashed horribly with his brown and blue canvas jacket, but it matched his red hair. Corin had never seen such a high hemline in men’s robes, but he liked it.
“Forgive us for being on edge. Your Festival caught us unprepa
red,” the man said, his words gentle and melodic.
Corin cocked his head, finding it odd to hear something so close to his own language and yet so different. “You’re the one I heard. You speak Nolan,” Corin said.
“A cousin language. Rocanese is similar,” he replied. They shared a smile that melted Corin’s heart. This was the voice Corin had heard from his bedroom. The beautiful timbre had drawn him to the window, and now he saw beautiful features to match.
“I’m Corin,” he whispered, afraid of speaking too loudly.
“Prince,” Helia hissed, pinching his arm.
“Douglas,” the man replied. They didn’t need titles.
Corin touched the bruise on Douglas’ cheek. “Did you try to hug the Ambassador, too?”
Douglas laughed and put his hand over Corin’s. The feeling was electric. For a moment, they were the only two people in the world and Corin laughed in disbelief.
Amanda’s stomach and legs felt cramped, and her head throbbed from gravity, but when she hugged the Nolan pillow, she felt better. She thought about calling for Morrigan, but Morrigan had given her a painkiller and a tall glass of weird-tasting water. She seemed annoyed when Amanda asked for help, and Amanda felt bad for ruining her Palace experience. The argument about how to escape had ended abruptly with the arrival of the clothing. The crew seemed easily distracted by the trinkets.
Amanda felt distracted, too. Someone was manipulating her mind and memories and she suspected it was Galen. Galen was a half-breed—part spirit and part human. He was a giant creature with a long, jackal-like face and powerful wings. He’d taken her from her life and kept her as a pet, but he’d kept her in a fantasy and the food wasn’t real. She’d starved to death, and he brought her back. It happened again and again. But she remembered the good parts. She remembered the fantasy, and there were times she wanted to go back.
Galen had her best friend now. Johann had disappeared from Terrana shortly after Amanda escaped on Oriana. Danny didn’t think so, but nothing else made sense. The other half-breeds weren’t interested in human pets.
Amanda wiped her eyes and wandered into the courtyard again. The woman from the upstairs window was a hybrid. A seer. Now that she’d experienced a premonition up close, she knew that was the power she’d felt on the ship. Sky would be relieved. Maybe. Amanda didn’t like that she could share power from a hybrid so far away. She was also pretty sure that both she and the woman in the window saw the half-breed in their vision.
The air was thick with the scent of roasting meat and pastries. The paved courtyard fit a small table and two chairs and was surrounded by hedges. The adjoining rooms had windows, but no patio.
A herd of bleating sheep trotted through the courtyard, plowing through the hedges that were meant to protect them. Amanda screeched and grabbed her chair, raising it to fend them off. Danny came up behind her, put an arm around her waist, and took the chair.
“What did you see?” he asked.
“Sheep. A dozen sheep just ran through,” she said, pointing to the hedges. She still saw the hole, and at the same time, she didn’t see anything out of place. This was where the mix of schizophrenia and hybrid powers got confusing. She pointed up to the second-floor window. “The woman had a premonition.”
“There’s no one there, Amanda,” Danny sighed, looking as frustrated at having to deal with her as Morrigan had been. “Are you going to make me miss this party?”
“Of course not. I might bring a few imaginary guests. And if I have a chance, I’m going to find this half-breed that’s messing with my head,” she replied.
“You said there was a woman in the window. You didn’t say half-breed,” Danny said.
“Because I didn’t mean her,” Amanda said. “But we both saw it. She’ll tell you.”
“Sure. In the morning. Zive forbid we do anything tonight,” he said, giving her a hug. “I have a ring for you. It’s so we don’t get solicited at the party.”
“What if I want to get solicited?” Amanda asked, watching him slide the ring on her middle finger. A round, green stone was set on a silver band. There were no sharp edges, making it useless as a defensive weapon. “Shouldn’t Hawk be giving this to me?”
“He’s a little distracted by his Prince,” Danny laughed. “You should have seen the look on Saskia’s face when she and Tray exchanged rings. I think they’re the only ones making our story believable.”
“That’s because Morrigan’s making love to the sheets instead of Chase,” Amanda said. “Sky would kiss you if you let her.”
Danny laughed, twirling a sapphire ring on his fingers. “I had a ring like this before the Revolution. It belonged to my mother, and I sold it to barter for the lives of war refugees. I thought for sure that I’d found you that time.”
“I miss Jo,” Amanda whispered, breaking out of Danny’s arms and heading into the parlor. She didn’t want to reminisce about a decade of captivity she couldn’t even remember. Using her sleeve, she covered her nose and mouth to block the smell of the wine and sank onto the plush couch in the middle of the room. The Prince had Hawk on a podium and was fussing over the length of his robe, bringing it even higher than the kilt Hawk had worn earlier. Amanda didn’t think the emeralds on Hawk’s sleeves matched his red hair, but they matched her ring. On the bed, someone had laid a white dress with green fabric accents and gemstones that matched Hawk’s robe. Tray and Saskia had been given red, Danny and Sky were in blue.
“Are you feeling better?” Morrigan gushed, sashaying away from the mirror. Her fluffy white and yellow dress made swishing noises when she walked. Her ring had yellow gemstones, sanded smooth just like Amanda’s.
“I’ll manage,” Amanda said, holding out her hand. Morrigan pulled her up, then took her to one of the adjoining bedrooms to change. She helped Amanda remove the sheathes on her calf and forearm, then turned around while Amanda put on the dress.
“This is a piece of heaven,” Morrigan said, playing with her skirt, which had layers of tulle adding to its volume. Her dress was cut to the knee, but Amanda’s went all the way to the floor. “How do you feel?”
“Like I should have taken a bath,” Amanda said, squirming at the feel of the silky fabric on her skin. Morrigan cinched the corseted back and led Amanda out to the mirrors where the tailor was waiting to make adjustments. Amanda heard Danny let out a whistle and was keenly aware of the way he stared. She took a look at herself in the mirror, trying to see past her unkempt hair.
The green emeralds studding the plunging V-neck of the halter-top made her green eyes shine. The white and green fabric of the dress draped off of her curves, giving her an hourglass shape that didn’t exist six months ago. She looked healthy and beautiful. Like she was about to be married.
“She’s supposed to be your sister,” Chase whispered, elbowing Danny in the rib cage.
Amanda’s ears got red.
“You look beautiful, bébé,” Hawk said. Even he seemed surprised to see her like this.
“Isn’t she?” Morrigan said, sweeping Amanda’s hair off her shoulders and turning her toward the mirrors. The others added compliments, but Amanda couldn’t hear. A tear rolled down her cheek. Her hand touched the glass, tracing her silhouette.
“Why did he make me Disappear?” she asked in Terranan, looking tearfully at Morrigan. “I didn’t care about his war. I wanted a sailboat. A dishwasher. A fish tank. A posse of stupid friends who think Olcott to Kemah is a long trip. He took it from me. Why me? Why did he take it from me?”
“I’m not wearing a Feather. What did she say?” Morrigan asked.
“I could have been married in a dress like this,” Amanda said, bunching the white fabric between her fingers. “I have to find Galen. He’s here. I saw him. Did he bring Jo for me? I have to find him!”
She ran, but Danny captured her before she made it to the door. He forced her down on the couch and she heard their hosts cry out in panic.
“He’s not here. Jo is not here. Galen is not here,
” Danny repeated over and over.
“He has to be! I need him! He’s the only one who remembers me,” Amanda yelled. She felt something injected into her arm and she lashed out, but her strength was gone. “She saw it, too. The lady in the window saw them. I have to find them.”
“You will not find him,” Danny said, laying prostrate over her, wrapping his leg around hers. “Amanda, he’s not here.”
The shouting in the room escalated.
“You must release her. Do it now, or we will separate you by force,” the Prince of Textiles insisted. Three green-uniformed guards had come in, weapons drawn, and the tailors hid behind them. Danny lifted his body, but Amanda stayed down on the couch. Her weapons were in the other room.
“Would you like to be moved to a different room?” the Prince asked her, his eyes full of concern and sincerity.
Amanda shook her head. “I want a goldfish,” she sniffled, her heart breaking for her lost youth.
“Gold fish.” He repeated the Trade word when the Virp translated. Then he opened his bead box and pulled out a thumbnail sized gold charm shaped like a fish. Amanda didn’t know whether to cry or laugh.
17
Jeremiah fiddled with the bangles on his wrists, pressing the metal, trying to get the top bangle to slide higher onto his arm. When he was younger, he used the bangles to count Festivals, but now he’d been to too many to count. They felt heavy, they pinched his skin, and Collette didn’t ogle his arms the way she used to.
She sat by the window in Corin’s room, gazing out at the empty courtyard. The only color in her face seemed to be red splotches from stress. She’d added silver Festival paint to her cheeks and wore a lacy wrap dress that Corin had made for her five years ago.
“Are you sure you want to leave? You can stay here tonight,” Jeremiah said for the tenth time.
Premonition: A Space Opera Adventure Series (The New Dawn Book 7) Page 11
