White Star

by Elizabeth Vaughan

  Orrin fixed the man with a glare. “As proof, I offer the ring of the late High Baroness Elanore. Also, the sworn statement of one Dorne, High Priest of the Lady of Laughter. Further,” Orrin added dryly, “gems, from the vault of the Black Keep.”

  One of the Herald’s assistants came forward to take the items from him, and brought them to the Lady Warder. Bethral opened the large leather bag, and rummaged in it. She gave the lad a nod, and he took the items to the Queen.

  She removed the ring and a scroll from the bag, and raised an eyebrow as she held up a large emerald to the light. She studied the ring for a moment, then carefully unrolled the scroll and read it. “If this is true, you have done a service to the Kingdom, and I will honor my word.”

  “Let me examine the scroll,” the mage spoke up. “I know Dorne’s hand.”

  “Take this to the Lord High Mage.” Queen Gloriana handed the scroll to one of the assistants.

  Evelyn’s father, then. Orrin flicked a glance over as the man unrolled the parchment and studied it.

  “Gems can be stolen,” the Archbishop said, his jowls wobbling. “This is no proof.”

  “Lord Fael, what do you know of this?” the Queen inquired.

  “There have been no attacks on my border for weeks,” Lord Fael said grudgingly. “But that hardly means they are gone.”

  “This is Dorne’s hand and seal,” Marlon announced.

  Orrin frowned at that. Marlon knew Dorne?

  “There is a rumor that the Lady High Priestess Evelyn was involved in this,” Ezren Silvertongue spoke up. “Is that true, Blackhart?”

  “It is. Without her aid, we would be dead, and your Kingdom awash in monsters,” Orrin said.

  “Nonsense,” the Archbishop sputtered. “You kidnapped her from the shrine she was tending—”

  “I rescued her, you fat fool, and she aided the people of the Black Hills with her magics,” Orrin growled.

  “What of my daughter, Eidam?” Marlon asked. “Let her speak for herself.”

  Orrin darted a glance at Evelyn’s father. Lord High Mage Marlon’s eyes flicked over Orrin, and seemed to recognize the red cloak on his back. He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing further.

  “She’s safe within the church, as you know, doing penance for the sake of her soul’s salvation.” The Archbishop glared at Orrin. “She broke the restrictions placed on her, and I—”

  “How so, if this man kidnapped her?” Vembar asked.

  The Archbishop shut up.

  “It seems to me that we must hear from the Lady High Priestess herself,” Gloriana said. “Send for her.”

  “My Queen,” the Archbishop protested.

  “Now,” Gloriana said.

  For a moment, Orrin thought the Archbishop would refuse the royal command. But finally, with a sullen gesture, he sent one of the acolytes off at a trot.

  “We will set this matter aside, Blackhart, until the Lady High Priestess appears.” Gloriana gestured.

  Orrin gave a half bow, and stepped back

  The Herald called the next matter, something to do with feral pigs roaming the common lands. Orrin listened with half an ear, as he waited and watched.

  If looks could kill, he was certain that the Archbishop would soon have his head on a pike. The man was clearly angry, his face flushing up.

  Evie’s father was also giving him the once-over, but there was no anger there. Only a keen interest that made Orrin nervous.

  The Queen had moved on to another case. Orrin had to give her credit, she didn’t hesitate in her decisions, and she was consulting with her advisers and actually seemed to listen.

  A stir in the back of the room brought his head around. Orrin’s throat closed when he caught sight of Evelyn, her head down, walking at the side of Priest Dominic.

  She was dressed in the formal white robes of a high priestess, a glitter of white and gold. Orrin’s heart leaped to see her. Part of him ached to hold her again, if only for a moment.

  Dominic and Evelyn approached the throne together, and bowed.

  “Lady High Priestess Evelyn, we welcome you to our Court.” Gloriana sounded genuinely pleased. “You are well, Lady?”

  Evelyn looked up. She nodded, but said nothing.

  Gloriana stared, a puzzled look on her face. “Aunt Evie?”

  “The Lady High Priestess is under a charge of silence as penance, Your Majesty.” Dominic’s voice was matter-of-fact. “She is forbidden to speak.”

  Evelyn’s father snorted, muttering something under his breath.

  “Surely that can be suspended for this interview,” Vembar suggested.

  “No,” the Archbishop stated. There was a long silence, and he shifted in his chair. “For the sake of her immortal soul and her vows to this order.”

  Vembar raised an eyebrow. “She can nod her head?”

  The Archbishop puffed out a breath. “Yes, of course.”

  “Lady High Priestess,” Gloriana said, “Orrin Blackhart is here before us this day, to claim his boon. He claims that he and his men have cleared the Black Hills of the odium. Were you with him, Lady?”

  Evelyn nodded.

  “Did you aid him, Lady?” Gloriana asked.

  Evelyn nodded again.

  “Are the odium destroyed?”

  Evelyn looked at Orrin. It hurt to see the pain in her eyes.

  “The Lady High Priestess collapsed from her wounds before the battle ended, your Majesty,” Orrin growled. “She cannot say what she did not see. She would not lie to you.”

  Evelyn looked at the Queen, and nodded.

  “You would, you bas—” the Archbishop growled.

  “We do not think so.” Gloriana’s voice cut him off. “We believe you, Orrin Blackhart. We will hold to our pledged word. What boon do you ask of us?”

  THIRTY-SIX

  EVELYN looked at Orrin, her heart torn in fear.

  Orrin stared back at her, his eyes filled with pain and determination. He gave her a slight smile, so weary and tired that she almost cried out.

  “Blackhart?” Gloriana spoke again. “What boon do you ask of the Throne of Palins? Ask, and it shall be given.”

  “A pardon for the men of the Black Hills, Your Majesty.”

  Relief and pride flooded through Evelyn, even as her eyes filled with tears.

  Gloriana’s eyes widened. “You surprise me, Blackhart.”

  Orrin gave her a wry smile. “I’ve cleaned up a mess I helped create, Your Majesty, but only with the aid of the people of the Black Hills. It’s only right that they not be punished for the sins of their leaders.”

  “So be it,” Gloriana said with a nod. “We will have it proclaimed throughout the land of Palins as swiftly as may be done.”

  “Priest Dominic, escort the Lady High Priestess Evelyn back to her chambers immediately,” the Archbishop directed. “I will speak with you, Lady, upon my return.”

  “My Lord Archbishop.” Orrin lifted a hand. “I ask you, before these witnesses, for the hand of Lady Evelyn in marriage.”

  Evelyn jerked her head up, joy filling her heart.

  Orrin looked at her solemnly as he continued. “I have nothing to offer her but my heart.”

  “Never.” The Archbishop struggled out of his chair. “By the rules of our Order she cannot marry without my consent, and I will never allow it. For one so perfect to be fouled by one so evil is an abomination.”

  Orrin’s hands clenched into fists. “I’m not going to stop petitioning for her hand. I’ll never stop.”

  “Be damned, then, for you can pound on the door of the church until your fists bleed. You will never get her. Never.” The Archbishop’s face flushed, his hand clenched white on his staff.

  “My daughter’s a woman grown, with a mind and a heart of her own. She’s free to make her own decisions,” Marlon said mildly.

  Evelyn looked at her father, confused.

  “Evelyn,” Orrin said.

  She looked at him then. There was a large crowd of people b
ehind him, all still as mice, their eyes glued to what was happening before them. But Evelyn was conscious only of Orrin’s eyes, his face weary and resigned.

  “Evelyn, my heart is yours, now and forever. Know that I will be the man of honor you expect me to be, now and until my dying day.” Orrin turned. “Your Majesty.” He bowed, then turned, walking toward the great doors through a silent crowd.

  Evelyn’s heart sank as she watched him stride away. The Archbishop was settling back in his chair, a smug look on his face. Dominic was next to her. She felt his hand on her elbow, ready to escort her back to the church, to days of prayer and meditation and rules and restrictions. A life she loved. . . .

  Didn’t she?

  Evelyn drew in a breath, and looked at her father.

  He was looking at her as well, but only with concern. No condemnation. Her life, her choice.

  Once before, she’d made a choice, and she’d chosen the safe one. A life in the priesthood, with its prayers and rules and safety. But now, with all that had happened . . . .

  She pulled her elbow from Dominic’s grasp, and straightened, throwing back her shoulders. Her eyes filled with tears, and she cried out from the depth of her heart, over the noise and buzz of the crowd.

  “Orrin!”

  ORRIN Blackhart stopped dead at the sound of Evelyn’s voice. He turned, uncertain that he’d really heard her.

  She was standing, her eyes bright with tears, in the empty space before the throne. Dominic stood next to her, an appalled look on his face. The look of shock was repeated on the faces of the Queen and those around her.

  Dominic placed his hand on Evelyn’s arm. “Evie, please,” he said, his voice an anguished whisper. “Don’t do this.”

  Evelyn didn’t even look at him.

  “OUTCAST!” thundered the Archbishop. His voice echoed off the stone walls. “Outcast and excommunicate, woman. Say one more word, and you are—”

  Evelyn turned and faced the Archbishop. She reached up, and undid the clasp of her white cloak. “I, Evelyn of Edenrich, can no longer serve in the Order of the Church of the Lord of Light and Lady of Laughter.” She let the cloak fall to the floor. “I cannot serve when its leader is a selfish, vain man who thinks more of his position and status than of his people.”

  The Archbishop’s face went white with rage. “You can’t—”

  Evelyn stripped off her heavy white gloves, letting them fall to the floor as he sputtered his outrage. She stepped out of her white and gold slippers, and started to unbutton her overdress.

  “Evie, don’t do this,” Orrin said. His heart was pounding so hard, he was afraid it would leap out of his chest. “Not for me. Don’t—”

  She turned away from the Archbishop, and let the dress fall as well, until she stood there in her soft white tunic and underskirt. Her face was radiant, glowing with light. Orrin could not believe the joy that shone in her eyes.

  Evelyn stepped over the pile of garments, her bare feet pale against the floor. She tugged off her ring, and held it out to him, the white star sapphire blazing with light. “I, Evelyn of Edenrich, in the eyes of those present and before the Lord and the Lady—”

  “Who’ll have nothing to do with you, whore,” the Archbishop thundered.

  Dominic spun on his heel. “Shut up, Fat Belly.”

  Eidam gasped, and sputtered.

  Evelyn ignored them all. She took another step forward, holding out the ring. “Before the Lord and the Lady, I ask you to be my husband and to have me to wife. For the labor of the day and the repose of the night, for the good and the bad, the joy and the sorrow, the light and the darkness within both our souls, Orrin Blackhart.”

  He was struck dumb, his heart so full of hope he didn’t dare breathe.

  “I stand here, empty of hand, bereft of my titles and powers, with nothing to offer but my heart and this simple ring. I ask this of you, woman to man, heart to heart, body to body, soul to soul.” Evelyn took another step, and held out the ring. It trembled in the light, the star shimmering on the white stone. “Orrin Blackhart, will you have me to wife?”

  Orrin stepped toward her. He swallowed hard before he dared speak. “I, Orrin”—his voice cracked—“of the Black Hills, take you as wife, and ask you to have me as husband. For the labor of the day and the repose of the night, for the good and the bad, the joy and the pain, the light and the—” His throat closed tight. He reached out, and took the ring from her hand. “The blackness of—” He swallowed. “Evelyn, are you sure?”

  She laughed, then, through her tears. “Oh, yes. Please say yes, beloved.”

  He reached out, and she stepped into his arms. “Oh, yes, Evie, yes. Heart to heart, body to body, soul to soul.” He buried his face in her hair. “I love you so much.”

  The entire crowd broke into cheers around them.

  “Damned, both of you,” the Archbishop shouted, spitting his words, his face livid. “Damned for all eternity.” The crowd went quiet as his words echoed off the vaulted ceiling.

  Orrin lifted his head, and snarled. He shifted their bodies slightly, so that he was between Evelyn and the Archbishop.

  The Court was shocked into silence, and Gloriana was pale as a ghost.

  “We should leave,” Evelyn whispered.

  “Have a care.” Lord Mage Marlon spoke loud enough to be heard over the rant. “A man your age shouldn’t—”

  The Archbishop ignored him, lifting his staff and shaking it. “Damned before the Gods and man. In the name of the Lord of Light and the Lady of Laughter, I curse—”

  His words stopped suddenly, as his face went white, beads of sweat on his forehead. An odd gurgle came from his throat.

  “Your Grace?” Dominic stepped toward him. “Perhaps you should sit down.”

  The Archbishop seemed to collapse in on himself. With a groan, he leaned on the staff and wrapped an arm around his belly. He leaned forward, and vomited on the floor.

  Dominic danced back to avoid the splatter.

  Archbishop Eidam swayed, then dropped to the floor to lie in his own spew. There was a brief moment of deep silence, and then the unconscious man drew a rasping breath.

  For a moment, no one moved. “See to him,” Dominic snapped.

  The acolytes rushed over, their faces screwed up in disgust as they tried to pull the unconscious man off the floor.

  Evelyn shivered as other guards ran forward to help at least get the man upright.

  Dominic looked at Evelyn.

  Orrin felt her hesitate. “If you want to try to help him, I won’t argue,” Orrin said.

  She gave him a grateful glance, and walked over to where they’d managed to get him back in his chair. Avoiding the mess, she stepped close to Dominic. They joined hands, and Dominic’s voice rang out. “Hail, gracious Lord of the Sun and Sky, Giver of Light and Granter of Health, we ask . . .”

  Evelyn bowed her head and closed her eyes. The room fell silent as all eyes focused on the healing.

  With a shake of his head, Dominic broke off the words. Holding on to Evelyn’s hand, he said something to her.

  Evelyn’s face was grim, and she shook her head, pulling her hand away. She returned to Orrin’s side and slid under his arm.

  “My Queen,” Dominic said, “I must return the Archbishop to the church. Quickly.”

  “Did it help?” Orrin asked Evelyn quietly, as the room filled with talk again.

  “No,” she whispered. “I renounced my vows, and the power that goes with them. But the healing didn’t flow for Dominic, either. I can’t help but think that if he’d collapsed a few moments earlier, we might have been able to heal him.”

  “I’d levitate him, but I’d be sure to strain something,” Marlon said over the noise.

  “Perhaps a few more men,” Vembar suggested. “And a cart from the stables.”

  “Herald”—Queen Gloriana stood—“let us clear the room, so that the Archbishop may be taken care of by his people.”

  No one moved until the Herald stepp
ed forward. Then people started filing out, abuzz with the news.

  Orrin studied the mass of moving people, frowning. It was a fairly good bet that at least a few of them wanted him dead. His weapons were at the main doors, and though Evelyn still had her battle magics, she wouldn’t want to use them here. If he could get her to Cenwulf, through that back alley . . . .

  Lady Bethral caught his attention.

  The tall blonde woman was standing by one of the recessed doors, off to the side, behind the throne. She summoned him with a nod.

  Orrin swept Evelyn out of the center of the frenzy, and toward the door, as quickly as he could. Bethral held the door open for them, then pulled it closed.

  Ezren Silvertongue stood there, a smile on his face. “Come. I would hear more of this story.”

  Orrin stiffened, but Ezren shook his head. “You are welcome in my chambers, Orrin Blackhart.”

  “My men are awaiting word,” Orrin said.

  “As simple as sending a messenger,” Ezren responded. “Come now, while they sort this all out.” His green eyes gleamed. “Come and tell me everything.” He walked off, gesturing for them to follow.

  Orrin leaned down to Evelyn’s ear. “Maybe not everything.”

  She blushed, and then laughed, a joyous sound.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  EZREN Silvertongue’s quarters had a fire burning bright, and more chairs in one room than Orrin had ever seen.

  He also had servants of every age and race. They came at his bidding, and disappeared just as quickly at his rasped commands: “Food and drink and shoes for Lady Evelyn.” He gave her a smile, his green eyes sparkling. “Cannot have you barefoot, Lady.”

  “Just Evelyn now, Ezren,” Evelyn reminded him gently as she sat, tucking her feet under her.

  “That is not quite true, Lady,” he reminded her. “The late King ennobled you as an honor quite separate from your status as a priestess.”

  “An honor that fat idiot cannot take away from you, Daughter.”

  High Mage Marlon strode into the room, looking smug.

  “Papa,” Evelyn launched herself out of the chair and into the man’s arms. “Oh, Papa.”

  Marlon’s arms wrapped around her in a massive hug. “Evie.”