House War 03 - House Name
Page 78
Jewel entered her room and took a deep breath, leaning back against the door as she tilted her chin toward the ceiling. She was happy to have everyone here; she was happy to be able to feed them and offer them the hospitality of one of the most renowned Houses on the Isle. But she was, as usual, afraid that something would go wrong, and she knew she wouldn’t relax, wouldn’t let herself truly be joyful, until everyone had actually gone home.
She walked over to the bed and knelt by its side, reaching beneath it, which was awkward given the cut of her sleeves. There, out of the chest that had been its home for so many years in the fiefs, lay a sword in a scabbard. It was neither small nor light, and Jewel had seen it only a handful of times. It was one of the few items that Rath had kept from his early life in a manse that had once included the woman who was now The Terafin.
Jewel had taken it from his apartment, with the tacit permission of Meralonne APhaniel, which in the case of the mage meant his total disregard for the nonmagical detritus of a dead man. She was honest enough with herself to remember that some of the reason she’d wanted the sword was the weapon’s obvious worth; the den could sell it if things didn’t work out and they ended up back in the streets.
That fear was gone, nor had it been the only reason she’d taken it. Rath had hated his old life—but hate it or no, he had never quite managed to toss this away. Or to sell it, when money was needed. She had no doubt that money had been tight for him at various times—at least until he’d discovered the undercity—but still, the sword remained hidden beneath his bed. He’d carried it—and wielded it—to save Arann in the streets of the holdings.
Her hands tightened around the scabbard as she remembered Lefty’s face on that day: He’d run to her to save Arann.
Shaking herself, she carried the sword out into the hall. It was heavy and long, and she handled it as if it were a narrow plank, not a weapon.
Finch and Teller, against all odds, had managed to—as they put it—clear space; the only person who occupied its center was The Terafin herself, although her domicis wasn’t far behind. She looked up as Jewel entered the room and began to push herself, as politely as possible, through the small circle of onlookers, some of whom she really didn’t want to offend.
“Jewel?” The Terafin raised a brow.
“I kept this for you,” Jewel replied.
The smooth, austere face of the older woman rippled briefly as her brows drew together. “A sword?”
“It’s not mine,” was the quick reply. “I mean, it was never mine.” Her hands shook because everyone was watching. Even the servants, who would no doubt spread word in the back halls the minute the party was over. Or sooner.
The Terafin held out both hands, and Jewel relieved herself of the burden, holding her breath as she did, and wondering what the sword would mean to The Terafin—if it meant anything at all.
The Terafin’s hands closed around the scabbard for a moment, and then she gestured people back so that she could draw the sword itself. It shone in the brilliance of magelights; someone had whispered them to full light. She might never have been a soldier, but it was clear she’d been taught how to at least handle a sword.
Jewel had prepared an explanation, but as she watched, she knew it wouldn’t be required.
“Where did you find this?” The Terafin asked, her voice strangely subdued, her expression almost vulnerable.
“Where he kept it, always.”
“He kept it.”
“He used to tell me to mind my own business when I asked. I saw him use it once.”
“And you mean for me to keep it.”
“It’s not—” Jewel hesitated and then said, “I think he would have been happier to leave it in your hands than mine.”
“I would have argued that point, once.” The Terafin lifted her chin and met Jewel’s gaze. “He was not a man who ever espoused forgiveness—neither in the giving nor the receiving. But . . . he sent you to me, Jewel. And if he was not forgiving, I think he must have understood what we might, in time, mean to each other. It was as much a gift as he had in him, and it reminds me that I—” She shook her head. “You do not wish to keep it?”
“No. But I want it to be kept.”
The Terafin nodded. “It was a gift to my brother from my grandfather, both of whom were to be so bitterly disappointed in the choices I made—and both of whom I loved.”
The last word caused a stir in the room; not speech, not exactly, but the sudden intake of breath, or the lack of breath. The Terafin couldn’t have missed it, but she could have chosen to ignore it as she so often did.
Instead she raised a brow. “And am I not to speak of love at all, even in such a gathering as this? There are no contracts to be signed, no delicate—or difficult—political negotiations, no delegations of possibly hostile visitors; there are no priests, no magi, no Kings.”
No one answered the question; Jewel thought no one would, although she did see Gabriel’s brief, pained expression before he looked away. Without thinking, Jewel stepped forward and caught The Terafin’s hand; Morretz and the Chosen allowed this.
“Yes,” Jewel said, speaking loudly and clearly. “If you feel it, if you honor it. We’re ATerafin; we’re the kin of your choice, and if we can’t hear it, who can?”
“Safely? No one,” The Terafin said, in a much softer voice. She looked rueful, if steel could. “But . . . thank you, Jewel.” She sheathed the sword. “Thank you, ATerafin. I have no like gift to offer.”
But Jewel shook her head, her eyes filming with tears that she would never shed. “You already have,” she whispered. “Terafin.” She forced herself to smile, and was surprised at how strongly she felt the expression take root. “Come,” she said, still holding the older woman’s hand in hers. “I want you to meet everyone.”
The Finest in Fantasy from MICHELLE WEST:
The House War:
THE HIDDEN CITY (Book One)
CITY OF NIGHT (Book Two)
HOUSE NAME (Book Three)
The Sun Sword:
THE BROKEN CROWN (Book One)
THE UNCROWNED KING (Book Two)
THE SHINING COURT (Book Three)
SEA OF SORROWS (Book Four)
THE RIVEN SHIELD (Book Five)
THE SUN SWORD (Book Six)
The Sacred Hunt:
HUNTER’S OATH (Book One)
HUNTER’S DEATH (Book Two)
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Epilogue