She came into view behind the the first two liegemen, more than a head shorter than either of them. A tiara glittered in her dark hair, studded with pale-blue gems that matched the ones sewn onto the bodice of her gown. Her step faltered when she saw me, her lips parting in surprise.
With Denna in front of me for the first time in days, all I could remember was the feel of her bare skin, the press of her body on mine, and the way her kisses burned down my neck and across my collarbones. I was on fire with the memory of us together and frozen with the knowledge that she could never be mine. The only thing tempering the pain was anger that she’d chosen him instead of me, and that I had been foolish enough to let my heart go in spite of it.
Denna turned her head and kept walking, leaving me to stare after her, gripping the balustrade with white knuckles. Her friend cast a questioning glance in my direction as though she could see the shame and desire that racked my body as I stood there looking the fool.
Lord Kriantz’s man urged me onward, and I shuffled the rest of the way down the stairs and out into the gardens, numb. The sunlight I’d looked forward to now seemed harsh and unfriendly. I barely saw the gardens or the people we passed with my head so full of the image of Denna decked out like a queen. Leaving Mynaria was starting to feel like the only way to survive. It was surely the only way I could ever hope to forget her.
At the stables, Lord Kriantz stood near the outdoor arena, holding the reins of his golden horse and my red one, both already saddled. Another of his men waited nearby with a bay desert horse that had the same odd conformation and metallic sheen that distinguished Lord Kriantz’s mare.
“Good afternoon, Your Highness,” he said, handing me Flicker’s reins.
“Thank you, my lord.” I quickly acknowledged him and then threw my arms around Flicker’s neck, not caring if it seemed childish. Flicker craned his head around and lipped at my shirt, the familiar gesture making my eyes sting with tears. I swallowed them down and stroked his neck a moment more. My horse, at least, would never leave me or betray me. Our relationship was simple, and familiar, and more solid than anything else left in my life.
“I thought you might be ready for a ride after so many days in the castle,” Lord Kriantz said.
“Yes,” I said. It was unclear how much Thandi might have told Lord Kriantz about the nature of my captivity at his hands, and I didn’t want to tell him anything he didn’t already know.
“Let’s ride in the hills where we can talk,” Lord Kriantz said.
My stomach lurched with nerves, but I nodded my agreement, checked Flicker’s girth, and used the fence to swing up into the saddle. We urged our horses along the path to the hills, Lord Kriantz’s guard following a respectful distance behind.
“The Directorate met a few days ago to discuss the war,” Lord Kriantz said as soon as we were out of earshot of the stables.
“Oh?” My sense of foreboding increased.
“The magical attack at the Gathering has made it clear that Zumorda is responsible. Plans require that I ride for Sonnenborne right after the king’s wedding, which has been moved up.”
Another arrow lodged itself in my heart.
“When?” I managed to ask.
“The feast will be on praise day, and the wedding the morning after,” he said. “As for us, I hope you’ve had time to consider my proposal.”
He’d given me more than enough time.
I took a deep breath of the crisp air and searched Lord Kriantz’s face, his horse, his bearing, for some sign of what the right decision might be. He seemed as steady as ever, his gaze keen, his demeanor calm. If worse came to worst, I could always try to strike out on my own once we were far from Lyrra.
Emotions warred in me. No path held any joy or promise.
“Yes,” I said at last. “I will ride with you.” As if there was truly any other choice.
His face lit up with a broad smile.
“I am happy to hear it.” He extended his arm across the distance between our mounts.
I reached for him and we clasped each other hand to forearm, more like comrades in arms than future husband and wife.
It was done.
At least I would escape. And if time was kind, I’d find something to live for besides the memory of her.
THIRTY-NINE
Dennaleia
THE DAY OF THE CULLING, I WALKED TO THE STABLES alongside Thandi like an animated corpse, feeling nothing and everything at the same time. The image of Mare standing on the staircase haunted me, and I had spent the days since desperate to close the chasm between us. A servant pressed a steaming mug of hot apple cider into my hands as soon as we arrived beneath the large tent set up alongside the arena. I clutched the cup and held it to my nose, but the cinnamon smell sent a stab through my heart. Though the warmth felt good on my hands, I discarded the mug on the nearest table, untouched, as soon as Thandi looked away.
Outside the tent, courtiers laughed and talked, most of them dressed in their best riding habits instead of the usual indoor finery. Several nobles stood around the holding pen where the weanlings anxiously milled about, taking bets on which horses would stay with the crown and which would be culled and sent out on the trading strings. I hung close to Thandi, knowing that any attempt to drift off would only be greeted with liegemen blocking my way. Still, I analyzed every opening, ready to bolt should the opportunity present itself.
Until the unthinkable happened.
The row of heralds outside the arena snapped to attention and played a sharp call on their bugles. Conversations faded into murmurs of confusion as everyone turned to face the castle. All those attending the culling should already have been at the arena, and anyone who required a heraldic declaration was already with us. Thandi offered me his arm, and I took it reflexively as the source of the disturbance came into view. Guards wearing plum livery and carrying long swords flanked someone I could not have been more shocked to see.
My mother.
Tingles raced up my arms.
She wore a crimson gown embroidered with hundreds of gleaming flowers, and the crown on her head shone with bejeweled spires that jutted into the sky like the towers of our castle back home. Faced with a true queen, I felt even less ready to become one myself. I took slow breaths, trying to quiet my Affinity.
My mother smiled at us as she drew to a halt and curtsied in greeting. Thandi bowed and kissed my mother’s hand. I curtsied in return, hating the formality that meant I could neither flee nor throw myself into my mother’s arms.
“Welcome to Lyrra, Your Majesty,” Thandi said. “Please join us for the afternoon meal.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” my mother answered.
I glanced at her, trying to convey my questions with a wide-eyed look, but all she gave me in return was a fond and dignified smile. There was no way I could find out what was going on in front of all these people. My mother would never break protocol. Thandi led the two of us to the banquet area and seated my mother at a table that the servants had hastily set up to mimic the royal one, but before I could speak to her, he led me to our seats several tables away.
Courtiers gossiped about their shuffled seating arrangements over the luncheon of decadent harvest food: rabbit braised with wine, herbs, and caramelized shallots, crusty bread spread with honeyed cheese tempered with the last of the mares’ milk, and apple pastries topped with crumbled brown sugar and toasted oats. I consumed only enough to be polite, a little of each dish as tradition dictated, glancing at my mother whenever possible. I could not begin to fathom how she had arrived so quickly or why she had not sent a messenger ahead.
After the food was cleared, it was time for the culling.
“Did you know she was coming?” I whispered to Thandi as we walked to the arena.
“I’m as surprised as you are,” he said. “But this is a good thing. One of us should have a parent here for the wedding.” Sadness flickered across his face.
Before I could say more, Lord Kriantz fell into step beside
Thandi, and the tingling in my palms resurged. Though they only made amicable conversation about the horses, all I could see looking at Lord Kriantz was the man who was taking Mare from me. The thought of him touching her made me want to immolate him on sight.
At the arena, Thandi clasped Theeds’s forearm in greeting. “Everything in order?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Theeds said. “The weanlings are ready to run through first, and the grooms will be prepared to run through the older sets in order.”
“Good,” Thandi said.
“We could use Mare’s eye today,” Theeds said offhandedly, scuffing his boot through the dirt.
Lord Kriantz and Thandi exchanged a look.
“She’s not feeling well,” Thandi said.
My blood burned at his lie.
Theeds regarded him with a suspicious eye but nodded and turned to the arena to finish the preparations.
“You don’t have to stay on your feet,” Thandi said to me. “Endalan, would you please accompany Princess Dennaleia to her seat?”
I would have rather lain down in the middle of the ring and let the horses prance over my bones than spend any time in his company, but I had no choice.
“Of course, Your Majesty.” Lord Kriantz took my arm, only a hint of displeasure on his face that he wasn’t to participate with the horses. While his close relationship with Thandi had already bought him a new level of credence, only the royal family and their horse masters had any say over the culling. Lord Kriantz seated me beside my mother in a row of wooden chairs on a stone platform alongside the arena, a canopy stretched above our heads to block out the sun. He settled me in the most ornate chair, encircled me with the embroidered woolen blanket from the back, and took his seat on my other side.
I immediately turned to my mother, filled with a thousand questions.
“I am grateful to see you, Mother, but why are you here?” I asked, speaking as softly as I could.
“When Alisendi returned from her visit, she told me about the assassination attempt on the king,” she replied. “I was concerned, and your father and I thought it wise not to announce my visit in order to avoid becoming a target myself.”
The subtext was clear as day. Ali had told her my gift was out of control.
“What about the letter?” That was the most positive correspondence I had sent her, and the first time I had expressed confidence in my future in Mynaria—all because of Mare and Ellaeni. Things had seemed more solid than ever at that point, unlike now, when nearly everything had fallen to ruins.
My mother lowered her voice even farther. “Casmiel’s death was concerning. Your struggles to adjust, perhaps to be expected. But developing relationships with Princess Amaranthine, who does not participate with the Directorate, and a coastal girl with little political power, and the intensity of your concern over Amaranthine’s opinion of you—”
I bristled. She judged them without even knowing them. But guilt welled up in me at the thought of Mare.
“I have bigger problems than that, Mother,” I said, barely able to keep my voice level. “The gods have become more familiar.”
Her blue eyes pierced me in warning.
“This is not the time, Dennaleia,” she said. “We shall talk about those things after the wedding, once the alliance is secure.”
“But I need to know—”
She cut me off by placing her hand on my arm and gazing out over the arena, expecting me to follow suit. The streaks of silver in her dark hair made her look even more regal, a striking contrast to the red of the dress she wore. Confidence and majesty radiated from her as though both had been part of her since birth. I had no idea how she could be so calm under the circumstances.
Below us, servants finished the preparations, stirring a large basin of paint that sparkled with flecks of silver. They carried it to a table on the quarter line of the arena, carefully surrounding it with greenery for decoration. Within the arena, whitewashed poles laid on the ground showed the course each horse would be led through for inspection, a wide circle around the center of the arena with an entrance and exit on each side. Closer to where I sat, slender branches laden with bright magenta blossoms wove through the arena fence, secured with braided rope.
A tall black weanling was the first horse to dance into the ring. The groom dodged flying hooves as he did his best to walk and trot the barely halter-broken colt along the circle around Thandi, Theeds, and the two other members of the culling committee. The half-wild eyes of the colt broke my heart. His life had changed in an instant the moment that halter had been slipped over his head. I looked up to the castle, searching the distant windows as if I might catch a glimpse of Mare. I wished she would come to free me—gallop through on Flicker and sweep me out of my chair and over the hills clear to the ocean, where we could board one of Ellaeni’s ships and never be seen again.
Below, the fussy black colt sidestepped across the center of the arena. The committee nodded approval, and Thandi dipped his hand into the silver paint.
“For wind, strength, speed, and heart, the Six shall ride with this colt as sealed by the hand of the king.” Thandi stamped the horse’s shoulder, the silver handprint standing out brightly against the colt’s dark coat. The handler trotted the horse out of the arena to applause from the spectators.
By the fifth sunlength of the culling I barely paid attention, staring out over the arena and letting my mind wander. I shouldn’t have had to sit there all day, but Thandi must have known that I would fly straight to Mare, that I would find a way into her rooms even if I had to fight the liegemen at her doors myself. Instead, I watched horse after horse being led in front of the cullers until the only things keeping me awake were the bones of my corset stabbing into my hips and fear of disappointing my mother.
Then the grooms led in a horse I recognized.
“No,” I said, shooting a panicked glance at Lord Kriantz.
He shrugged.
He couldn’t. No one with a soul would allow that horse to be sold. Down in the arena, the stable master’s mouth drew into a hard line, and he crossed his arms. He must have known this was coming, but he didn’t look happy about it. A murmur drifted through the crowd, and I shifted forward to the edge of my seat.
The handler took the horse through his paces, running as fast as he could to keep up with the long, sweeping strides. When they came to a halt in the center of the ring, the tall chestnut gelding lipped playfully at his handler, calm and easy after the half-wild weanlings and yearlings that had gone through earlier in the afternoon.
Thandi pointed to the right, sending Flicker to the cull pen. He’d go out with the rest of the sale string after our wedding.
Lord Kriantz shook his head. “Waste of a nice horse,” he said.
Flicker was the one thing that mattered to Mare. If he cared for her, how could he let Thandi use the horse as petty revenge?
“How can you let him do this?” I hissed. “Flicker is everything to her.”
He shrugged. “She won’t need that horse in the desert. She’ll have her choice of any of mine. That one’s not fit for desert life.”
His logic did nothing to cool my temper. Nothing in his explanation offered any care for her, or thought of her, or consideration for what she loved. Wild thoughts poured into me, thoughts of burning. I bit the inside of my numbing cheek, hoping it would stop me from blasting Lord Kriantz’s head clear off his shoulders. I redirected my gaze to the ground below the raised chairs on which we sat, focusing on a few damp leaves in the dirt. Smoke wisped up as they dissolved into ash.
My mother grasped my hand in warning.
“Your temper is showing, Your Highness,” Lord Kriantz said under his breath with a smile.
My body went ice cold, but it did nothing to put out the raging fire in my heart.
FORTY
Mare
ON PRAISE DAY, THREE DAYS AFTER THE CULLING, I SAT down alongside Lord Kriantz for Denna and Thandi’s prewedding feast in the great hall—the
first meal outside my chambers since Thandi had locked me up. It might as well have been my last. The velvet folds of my dress hung around me like a funeral shroud, darker than the evening sky outside. Decorations glittered on the walls, streamers hung from every chandelier, and the table burst with as many arrangements of autumn leaves and blossoms as could be wedged among the place settings and serving platters.
I wished for Denna’s Affinity so that I could set it all on fire.
Once everyone had taken their seats, the double doors of the great hall swept open to reveal Denna in her finery. Her dress glimmered in the colors of autumn, layers of coppery fabric fluttering over a rich burgundy satin. The bottom hem of the gown hung with enough beads and wire scrollwork to decorate every war saddle in the stables, and her dark hair was twisted up and accentuated with streaks of chestnut and white horsehair braided into the lustrous strands.
While part of me wished for nothing more than to stand up and take her hand, that time had passed. I twisted my cachets until they cut off the circulation in my wrist, tearing my eyes away from her to stare at my empty plate.
As Denna passed me to take her seat, she brushed her fingertips over my bare shoulder blade with the lightness of a feather. Goose bumps rose in the wake of her touch, and I hated her for it. My stomach churned as she sat down with Thandi at the head of the table, her mother like a mirror image on her other side. Lord Kriantz put his hand on my arm and brought me back to earth. I studied his face, his easy smile, his dark eyes and angular jawline, wishing that something there could call up even half of what Denna made me feel. At least he would take me far away from her and the chaos she wreaked in my heart.
It wasn’t until the dishes were cleared, several rounds of dancing had taken place, and Thandi was distracted talking to Lord Kriantz that Denna slipped into the chair beside me. Other nobles milled around us, sipping their wine and engaging in conversation, but she might as well have been the only other person in the room.
“You came,” Denna said.
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