Stormshadow (Storms in Amethir Book 2)

by Stephanie A. Cain

  "Of course I'll hear him out." She smiled to hide her fury. How dare someone, even Vistaren's dear friend, think she would back out of their agreement without so much as waiting for an explanation? "I would have heard him out at once, if he hadn't been dancing with Orya when I came back."

  "A ball is a difficult place to have a serious conversation," Lozarr agreed. "We counselled him to wait, but he couldn't stand the thought of lying to you, even by omission."

  And just as quick as that, Azmei's fury dissolved. Poor Vistaren. He simply couldn't win with her, could he? If he lied to her, she would be angry about that. If he told her the truth, she would be hurt and angry and not understand. She sighed and lowered her head, staring at the rich scarlet silk of Lozarr's sash.

  "I know it must be confusing for you," he murmured. "But Vistaren does truly care for you, princess. It was a relief to him when he thought you understood the situation you were coming into. And when he realized you did not, that your choice of Rona and Fann was a coincidence..." Lozarr's arms tightened around her, and despite herself, Azmei felt comforted. How could Arama have resisted him for so long? He was steadying and kind as well as handsome.

  "I liked the stories," she whispered. She swallowed, trying to force down the vulnerability that was trying to grip her again. "And I liked Aevver."

  "No doubt." She could hear the smile in Lozarr's voice. "I can see something of her in you, if I may be so bold."

  "You love Vistaren very much, don't you?" She looked up as she asked it, just in time to see regret flicker across Lozarr's face.

  "Not enough," he said. It confused her for a moment, and then she realized that her betrothed must have felt a very different kind of love for him. "But I do love him, as my liege lord and my friend. And I believe in the marriage you and he might make, if you will let yourselves."

  "It won't change...that...about him," she said, wishing he would contradict her and knowing he wouldn't.

  "No." His gray eyes were steady on hers. "But there is much to be said for the love of friendship and companionship, even if it cannot be passion." His cheeks flushed as he said it, as if he realized suddenly that he was talking about sex to his future queen.

  If I am truly to be that, Azmei thought. But she didn't feel quite so bleak about it now.

  The music ended. With regret, Azmei stepped out of his hold and curtsied as he bowed. She could not use the excuse of dancing to get Arama's council, but dancing with Lozarr had been almost as good.

  "I thank you for honoring me with a dance, Princess Azmei," he murmured. His lips glanced brushed against her fingers, and then another Ranarri councilman was asking for a dance. Suppressing a sigh, Azmei allowed the flow of courtesy to take her where it would.

  Vistaren approached her again, finally, after that dance ended. She gazed up at him solemnly, her stomach churning at the anxious expression on his face. She was the one who had put that expression there. She took his hands in hers and smiled at him, hoping to reassure him. She wasn't certain if it worked.

  Before the music began, a swelling murmur caught Azmei's attention. She looked over to where Orya stood, one hand on Lozarr's arm, her face white and beaded with sweat. He was bending near, speaking to her. Orya's eyes were closed. She shook her head. Movement made Azmei look to her right: Arama was approaching through the crowd, displeasure clear on her face. Did she think Orya was making a play for Lozarr's affection?

  "What's wrong?" Vistaren asked.

  "Orya. She doesn't look well." Indeed, she was leaning on Lozarr's arm as the general helped her from the dance floor.

  "Lo will take care of her. He's good at that."

  "I imagine so," she agreed, though her attention was focused on the way Orya clung to him. Arama was frowning. "I hope she isn't ill."

  "Probably just overheated. I believe she's danced as many dances as you have, and talking nonstop as she did so." Vistaren spoke wryly. "I like your friend, but she doesn't exactly let one get a word in edgewise, does she?"

  Azmei snorted. "She does rather wear on you after a while. I like her, but we only really became friends on the voyage here. She came to Ranarr to sell fabrics. My dress is made from her wares."

  "It's a very nice dress. Did I tell you that earlier?"

  She glanced sharply at him. "You don't have to do that."

  Vistaren recoiled. "I wasn't--I didn't say it because I thought I had to." He pinched his lower lip between his thumb and forefinger. "I like the cloth. It looks pretty on you."

  "I'm sorry." She sighed. "Thank you." When she looked over, Lozarr and Orya were leaving the ballroom. Arama was slipping between guests, following them out. "I suppose Arama will help Lo take care of her," she observed.

  That made him laugh, thankfully. "Thank you for talking to her. You managed to do what Lo and I have neither one been able to do." To Azmei's questioning glance, he added, "Make her see sense."

  Azmei shrugged. "I only spoke the truth. Any woman would have to be mad to turn down such devotion freely offered."

  "Ah." He glanced away. "We should probably--That is--I imagine you, ah, have questions..."

  "I do. I'm not sure what they are, but I would like some answers." She looked up at him. "I'm very confused."

  His lips twisted bitterly. "You aren't the only one."

  "I really could use some fresh air. We could go out on the terrace and look at the ocean," she suggested. "The sea breeze would be a relief."

  He nodded and turned to lead the way. He kept one of her hands gripped in his own, and Azmei couldn't deny that she liked the feeling, though she understood now that it meant nothing to him. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, she scolded. What would Aevver do in this situation? For that matter, what had Aevver done? Had she known about Rona and Fann? Had she been a part of their relationship? Perhaps she had been the one to see the truth of their love before even they understood it.

  Lost in her imagination, Azmei didn't hear the fanfare until Vistaren stopped walking. "Damn," he muttered, and turned, a smile pasted across his face. "They're going to make speeches at us."

  Azmei looked at him in bewilderment.

  "It would be rude for us to slip out while they're talking about how monumental our marriage shall be," he explained.

  "Oh." She looked over her shoulder to where a Ranarri Diplomat was climbing the steps to the dais. "Damn."

  Vistaren chuckled and tugged her around to stand beside him. His arm draped possessively around her shoulders. Azmei let herself lean into it. They would make a lovely picture, she thought, even if it was all a lie.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Orya had not expected the pirate captain to follow when General Algot escorted her to her chambers. Who was protecting the prince if his two bodyguards were following her? She wondered if they had somehow discovered her identity. Perhaps they were responsible for the shadow she had sensed but never been able to spot or shake. She had wasted her attention on Thorne when she should have been looking more closely at the prince's entourage.

  But the general, after seeing her to her door, only waited long enough to discuss the situation with Wenda. He issued orders to Wenda with the calm assurance of someone whose orders are always followed. "Take care of her," he said. "She grew overheated and tired in the ball. She should rest. Give her plenty of water to drink."

  Wenda had played her part well, curtsying and agreeing to every order he issued. Once the door was closed behind him, Orya staggered to her room, where she kept her stash of poisons and antidotes. She swallowed the sunder and gulped down an entire glass of water to make it work faster. She had timed her swoon to happen just before the speeches began. It had two advantages: she didn't have to sit through interminable praises of Azmei and Vistaren, and she knew where the two of them would be for at least the next half hour, perhaps longer.

  Her hands were still shaking as Wenda helped her undress. She hadn't needed the special alterations to the dress after all, but she would rather have them and not need them, than need t
hem and not have them.

  No, she was being dishonest even with herself. She could have used the poison dart to kill Azmei, with no one the wiser until she was well away. She could even have poisoned Eustra's dress. Orya didn't want to kill Azmei. She had been making excuses to keep from doing so. But no more. It was Yarro who would pay the price, after all, if Orya defied the patriarch.

  "Are you sure you are well enough to go through with this?" Wenda asked. She was standing behind Orya, unlacing her stays, or else Orya would have slapped her. How dare she question Orya yet again?

  "I am fine," Orya snapped. "Cease speaking and help me."

  There was tense silence between them as Wenda helped her out of her dress. As soon as Orya was free, she tugged on a pair of black breeches and a black blouse. A binding vest with pockets and dagger sheaths went over the blouse, and black boots laced up to her knees. To complete the outfit, Orya had a black hood with a half-mask sewn in. It would leave her vision unobstructed while covering her hair and all of her face except her eyes. No one would be able to identify her, and the vest and breeches would make her appear a slender boy rather than a woman.

  She drank another glass of water. It would make her need the privies, but she had long practice at outwaiting her body, and she needed the sunder to wash out the last of the redleaf's effects.

  "Orya," Wenda said. A hand closed on her shoulder. "You don't have to do this. I know you care for Princess Azmei. There are other ways."

  She whirled and struck Wenda in the face. Her cousin staggered, caught her weight on her bad foot, cried out, and fell.

  "There are no other options!" Orya hissed. "Curse you for a traitor! The patriarch will hear of this." And if she were particularly fortunate, he would reward her with extra time against her service.

  Wenda sobbed. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

  Orya tried to ignore the twinge of guilt. Perhaps Wenda was right. If she were careful, she could send word to her friends and have them smuggle Yarro to her here in Ranarr. She wouldn't have to do this.

  But it was too late. Her course was set.

  She stormed out of their rooms, ignoring the way Wenda's sobs sounded like mocking laughter.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The speeches finally ended, but then the music started up again, and Azmei and Vistaren were expected to lead the dancing for the first set. They didn't speak as they danced. Azmei could think of nothing to talk about that didn't involve asking why he would wish to marry her if he loved men. She didn't know why Vistaren was silent.

  She saw when Lozarr returned to the ballroom, but she didn't break her silence to point it out to Vistaren. Lozarr looked perturbed. Arama hadn't come back with him. Had they argued again?

  Vistaren's voice broke into her thoughts. "Could we go somewhere more private and talk?"

  She looked up at him, abandoning her speculation. "We should," she agreed. "As long as you're sure it will occasion no talk."

  He gave her a crooked smile. "I imagine it will occasion some talk, but nothing of the sort we don't want." He touched her chin gently with one forefinger. "The gossip will have us madly in love and reluctant to wait until our wedding day for more than a single kiss. We will never be truly alone, so no one will be able to allege we have behaved with impropriety, but we can manage enough privacy to talk without anyone overhearing."

  She felt her cheeks burning even though she knew he didn't want her. Maybe it was because he didn't want her. "Yes, let's go outside."

  Without waiting for him, she turned and headed for the tall double doors that stood open to the night. When they were out of the crush of people, she slowed and raised her eyes to the sky. She could see stars scattered across the sky like handfuls of diamonds. She took a breath and let it out slowly.

  "This way," Vistaren said, touching her elbow. "There are alcoves over there that will let us talk without leaving public view."

  As they made their way to an empty alcove, Azmei felt her shoulders tightening. She didn't want to talk about this, didn't want to be rejected by him, even though she knew they must. Why couldn't this have been simple?

  They stood in silence for a time. Torches burned in sconces at either side of the alcove they had chosen, but inside the alcove, the light was dim enough that she couldn't see his expression. She could still see the stars, though, and she leaned against the balcony wall, staring up at them. It must be lovely to be a star. They were so beautiful and distant. And what did the stars know of love? They neither loved nor wished to be loved. How wonderful.

  Vistaren sighed. "I'm sorry I wasn't open with you from the beginning. I wished to tell you sooner. I always intended to tell you before we were married."

  "It's what you meant when you said you would have no secrets between us when we wed," Azmei remembered.

  "Yes. And then I began reading your translation, and even with my broken Tamnese, I realized you weren't certain about the relationship between Rona and Fann. I began to wonder if you'd chosen them because you'd heard the rumors about me." He brushed a hand over his hair. "I haven't made much secret of it at home. I've always known I would probably have to marry for heirs, since I am my parents' only child. It was always possible you'd heard."

  Azmei jerked her shoulders. Orya hadn't known about him, since she'd made remarks about Vistaren possibly having bastards. Had Destar known? But he would have said something, wouldn't he? He'd said Vistaren wasn't very war-like, but that had nothing to do with who the prince loved.

  "I didn't mean to deceive you, Azmei." Vistaren gripped her shoulders, his fingers too tight. "You must believe me. I like you. I respect you. I know I lied to you once, but I wouldn't do it again. Especially not about something so important."

  She forced herself to meet his eyes. "I lied to you first. I shouldn't have been angry about it at all."

  He pursed his lips. "Will you at least give me a chance? Not call everything off right away? We can make this work, and I believe it will be for the betterment of both our kingdoms."

  "Make it work the way Rona and Aevver did?" she burst out. "And what happens to me when you meet your Fann? Or is that just how you do it in Amethir? Marry the woman for show and heirs but love your man in secret?"

  She forced herself to stop talking. Her voice was too raw. He would be able to tell how much he had hurt her, how much she had wanted to love him. How much she had wanted him to love her.

  "No!" He stared at her, brows drawn together, mouth open. "I would never do that to you! I've made you a vow. I would never, never be unfaithful to the vow I made."

  "No?" She stepped close to him, pressing her body against his. It was seductive and improper, and it would have no effect on him whatever. "And what can you give me? Can you give me children? Can you give me any kind of love at all, when you are not made to love a woman?"

  Vistaren swallowed. "I..."

  She tilted her face up, cheeks burning. It wasn't kind. "Will you even try to please me?" she whispered. She stood on her toes until their lips were all but touching. "How can you, when you don't even want to kiss me, Vistaren?"

  He looked miserable, but he bent his head and pressed his lips against hers. His hands gripped her upper arms, holding her where she was, as he opened his mouth against hers and brushed their tongues together. She felt warmth stealing through her body. She jerked away.

  "You don't even like it," she whispered, breathing hard. And she had liked it, more than she wanted to. She didn't want to end up like Lozarr, desperately loving someone who would never give her what she longed for. How could Vistaren ask it of her?

  Tears filled her eyes and she lowered her head. Vistaren's arms went around her hesitantly. They were comforting, even as she wished they wouldn't be. She went rigid in his arms, but he didn't let her go. She mustn't cry, she told herself. She must be strong, like Aevver. She must act in a way that would make her father and brother proud.

  The thought of her brother made her suck in a shaky breath. She had said she wished to serve him, ha
dn't she? All those weeks ago, standing on the ship. It is time to allow me to protect you, she had said. And he had sworn to her that she didn't have to do it, that she could come home if she wished. But how could she go back on her word?

  "Oh, Azmei, I wish I could make it easier for you," Vistaren whispered. "I wish I could make it easier for both of us."

  Azmei let a single sob escape. "So do I." She put her arms around him and hugged him tightly. "I do care for you, Vistaren. I hate the thought of tying you to me and making you unhappy. You'll hate me for it someday."

  "I won't," he protested.

  She pulled away and straightened, looking at him and feeling the ocean breeze dry her wet cheeks. "You won't want to. You'll try not to, I know that at least." She managed a small smile. "And I shall try to be content if you can give me children for us to raise together."

  She saw the relief hit him. It went through him like a shiver, and then his expression opened up. "You won't call it off?" he asked. "You won't dissolve the treaty?"

  "How can I? If you are willing to sacrifice your own chance at romance for your kingdom, how can I do less for mine?" Azmei took a deep breath and found that smiling wasn't quite as hard as it had been. "And both of our countries shall be stronger together. Perhaps we shall yet manage to end this horrible war."

  They might never be lovers in truth, but she knew she could come to love him. The happiness it gave her to see such joy on his face told her that. She smiled up at him and he smiled down at her. There would be more questions to ask, and doubtless they would face difficulties unique to their situation, but she was suddenly confident they would weather those difficulties together.

  She never saw the knife.

  She saw Vistaren recoil, face dissolving into horror. She felt him jerk her towards him. She stumbled forwards, balance gone. A sharp punch to her side took her breath away.

  Then she was falling. Vistaren was shouting, but his voice seemed rather far off.