Anje answered with a laugh.
“Is he mocking me, Hayden?”
Hayden snaked his free arm around her. “It doesn’t matter. You get a new horse, I get a silver crown for my efforts today, and tonight, we celebrate being alive.”
Rhoane and Baehlon approached, tossing compliments and congratulations his way. Beyond them, Baehlon’s brother stood to the side of the royal box, his focus on Hayden’s group of friends. He glanced at the knight and Eleri prince before turning back to Denzil, but the man was no longer there. A chill swept over Hayden. The man couldn’t possibly disappear like the Shadow Assassin. Or could he? If so, then Hayden had to find out whom he really worked for.
Chapter Nineteen
Taryn lounged on an overstuffed chair in the great room of the castle, flipping her fan open and closed with suppressed irritation. On the next couch, Hayden was once more regaling the court with his near-victory in the chariot race. Taryn could almost recite the story in its entirety. She silently mouthed the words, matching Hayden’s cadence perfectly. Sabina slapped her hand with a stern look at the fan and an arched eyebrow, daring Taryn to disobey.
She didn’t begrudge him the second-place finish, nor was she jealous of the reward he received from her mother—his choice of the magnificent Ullan horses. Unsurprisingly, he chose the black he’d raced with. Taryn might’ve been upset had he chosen the black and tan, but even then, she was excited for her cousin.
She shared in his happiness, often sneaking away to bring sugar cubes and carrots to the stables, always making certain to have a little something for Ashanni as well. Despite Anje’s teasing, Taryn didn’t want to hurt the mare’s feelings by showing too much enthusiasm for the black and tan.
Inactivity had soured her mood. The morning’s training was canceled due to bad weather and she was restless waiting for the day’s events to commence. Between listening with rapt attention to Hayden’s tale, Sabina corrected Taryn’s fan manipulations. Her friend insisted she learn the art, but Taryn played coy, often making mistakes just to annoy Sabina. Which wasn’t very kind of her, but she couldn’t see how snapping a fan closed at just the right speed and with the exact flick of her wrist would do her any good.
As she flicked and fluttered her fan, she was fairly certain she insulted half the court, but no one said anything to the contrary. When Sabina wasn’t looking, she would bat her eyelashes and grin like a fool with the fan concealing half her face. If caught, she would act genuinely chagrined and be a perfect student until the next opportunity for mischief.
Darius passed with another page and she waved the fan at him.
“You just told him you will meet him by the stable in half a bell,” Rhoane said, sitting on the arm of her chair.
“I did not.” In truth, she might have.
“He tells me he has been training with you and your guard. Is there something I should know?”
“I’m thinking of taking Darius with me to Talaith. I can use good men like him.”
“Have you asked your mother? Technically, Darius is her servant.”
“Mother thinks everyone is her servant. But I checked and the residents, while they are employed by Her Majesty during the Light Celebrations, are not officially a part of her household. Still, I’m just kind of hoping I can ask and she’ll say yes.”
Rhoane kissed her nose, wished her luck, and then left to practice before his archery competition. Bored with the fan and restless, she decided to take a walk. Kaida, warm by the fire, stayed with the princesses. A chill blew up the hill and she pulled her cape tight against it before heading in the direction of the archery field. On impulse, she turned to visit the jeweler’s to inquire about Sabina’s gift.
The little shop off the high street was warm and Taryn loosened her grip, allowing her cape to flow loose around her. The cape had been a gift from Faelara upon her arrival at Celyn Eryri. Pale-blue velvet trimmed in white fur, it not only kept the chill from invading Taryn’s body, but rendered her fashionable, which made her mother happy. Despite the lighter fabric, it was as warm as the heavy, utilitarian wool cloak she’d had Tarro make for her trip to the Narthvier. She saw his handiwork in the delicate stitchwork of the cape and could only guess how thrilled he was to have her dressing more like a lady.
The jeweler popped his head through the doorway to his workroom and, upon seeing her, smiled broadly. “Your Highness. I had not thought I’d see you today. Alas, the ring is not yet finished.” He held his hands out, palms up. “Would you like to see it?”
Even unfinished, the ring was exquisite. Made from a stone Taryn had found in the Narthvier, its color an exact match to Hayden’s green eyes, the jeweler had fashioned an elaborate setting that set off the inner glow of the gem.
“It’s stunning. Thank you.” She handed the ring to the jeweler and smiled at the slight blush to his aging cheeks. He reminded her of Brandt and her heart pinched.
“It will be ready by the morning. I close at midday bells for the afternoon competition.”
Taryn thanked him and left, unsure where to explore next. As she exited his shop, she turned left, running smack into a passerby. She mumbled an apology and floundered to steady herself, groping the man’s well-muscled chest in the process. Mortified, she ducked her head to avoid being recognized. It would not do to have the empress hear she’d molested someone on the street.
“Princess?”
Taryn’s gut dipped at the title. She slowly raised her head, a flood of relief sweeping over her at the sight of Darius. “Oh, thank the gods it’s you.” At his puzzled expression, she added, “I was checking on Sabina’s gift. What are you doing?”
“I thought I would practice before the event.” He gestured to the bow slung over his shoulder. “I would really like to win today.”
“Even if you don’t, Ellie won’t think less of you.”
His head jerked up and his mouth worked, but no words came out.
“Please, don’t try to tell me you aren’t fond of her.”
“It wouldn’t be proper, Your Highness. She is a lady’s maid. I’m but a page and only part-time at that.”
She bit the inside of her cheek, contemplating. Darius shifted from one foot to the other, impatient to practice, but not daring to disobey a noble.
Finally, Taryn said, “If you worked for me, you’d be her equal in status.” His eyes grew to the size of saucers, his pupils dark against a thin ring of emerald. She put a finger to her lips. “It has to be a secret right now, but I’d like you to come to Talaith as part of my personal guard. You’ll be trained not only with a sword, but you’ll continue the martial arts training we’ve started here.”
“I, yes, I would love to. Can I? I mean, would the empress allow it?”
“You leave that to me. Just make sure this is something you really want to do. Talaith is very different from Celyn Eryri. Think about it and talk to your family before you decide.”
Darius bowed low to her with a promise he would do as she said. He ran off in the direction of the archery field and Taryn hurried to the castle, nervous with excitement. She’d noticed something about Darius, something she’d not wanted to mention to Rhoane until she was certain. That day’s event would either prove or disprove her theory.
Time moved with inexorable slowness. Taryn paced the great hall, then around the battlements, and finally ended at the stables. Ashanni nickered to her and she gave the mare several sugar treats before slipping a few to the black and tan. She was petting the stallion when a stable boy who’d been mucking stalls approached.
“Name’s Nikosana.”
“I’m Taryn.” She indicated the horse. “What’s his name?”
The boy grumbled a laugh. “Nikosana.”
“Oh. I thought that was your name.”
His grin warmed the chill in her heart. “I’m just a stable boy, my lady. My name doesn’t matter.” He turned to go and Taryn stopped him.
“Everyone matters.”
He cocked an eyebr
ow, a frown pulling his lips dangerously low.
“Never think you’re less than anyone.” She pointed to the bucket in his hand. “You care for these noble creatures, making sure they are warm and safe. That makes you important.” She quirked a smile. “If you think about it, it’s not much different from what I do.”
He bowed low, his hand over his heart. “I will endeavor to remember your wise words, my lady.”
Before she could reply, the stable master called out and the boy rushed from the stall. Taryn returned her attention to Nikosana. “Everyone matters. Never forget that.”
He snuffled and tossed his head. Taryn laughed under her breath and stroked his forelock before giving Ashanni several pets.
“My lady,” a gravelly voice said from the shadows and Taryn tensed, her palm resting on her sword. “I mean you no harm, but cannot be seen speaking to you.” A sultriness to his voice triggered familiarity and she faced the darkened corner where the stranger hid.
“What do you want?”
“A warning, nothing more.” White teeth dazzled against his dark skin.
“You have a nice smile, Denzil de Monteferron. Like your brother.”
A soft chuckle drifted toward her. “It is about the only similarity we possess.”
“You said a warning, about what?”
“Be careful who you trust, Princess.”
Taryn snorted a laugh, disturbing the dozing horses. “That’s your big warning? Thanks, but you’re a little late.”
He shifted forward and his almond-shaped eyes shone bright in the dim light. “Adesh the merchant, he has ties to the Black Brotherhood. He claims his pleasure ships are for smuggling goods into Talaith, but there is more to those voyages. Your cousin is playing a dangerous game, trusting the Summerlands merchant.”
“I’m assuming you’re telling me this to keep his illegal goods from upsetting my mother’s illegal taxation. Either way, my concerns are less with the economy of Aelinae and more for its safety.”
“They are one and the same, Eirielle.” He slunk back into the shadows at the approach of the stable boy, who methodically went to every stall, giving each occupant a flake of hay before exiting through a far door. When he’d gone, Denzil whispered, “Not everything is as it seems. I’m trying to unravel the reasoning for the empress’ taxation, but being a hired sword, I can’t get any information. If you are willing to trust me, I believe we could help each other.”
Taryn chuckled her disbelief. “Did you seriously just say that? You want me to trust you and yet you just told me to be careful whom I trust. Um, isn’t that a little hypocritical?”
Silence answered her. She scanned the area, looking for any sign of ShantiMari and finding none. After a minute, she poked a hoe into the corner, hitting the wooden wall. He’d managed to disappear without her sensing anything. A chill struggled up the back of her neck, fighting through the hairs that stood on end.
Trumpets blared and she jumped in response, her nerves scattering. She gave one last pat to both Ashanni and Nikosana before jogging to the field, joining her sisters along the way. Sabina linked an arm in hers and smiled up at Taryn with the goofy smile she constantly wore. Taryn wondered if she grinned like a loon every time she and Rhoane made love. Probably. She returned Sabina’s ridiculous smirk and wrapped an arm around her friend. The familiar tug of twisted ShantiMari rested beneath the Summerlands princess’ skin.
Denzil’s words echoed in her mind. If Adesh had ties to the Black Brotherhood, that might account for the odd twist to his ShantiMari, and Sabina was tainted by the phantom, but surely Ebus was not involved with the Black Arts. Taryn held Sabina tighter. When she returned to Talaith, she’d have a long chat with both Ebus and Adesh.
They took their seats in the royal box and waited anxiously as sixteen men and women stood a pace apart with bows drawn, anticipating the signal from Lliandra. Taryn fidgeted, a knot of nerves stuck in her belly. The archers released their arrows and sixteen thumps were clearly heard. Each hit within a specified circle moved the archer to the next round, where the target was placed at a farther distance. A miss meant the archer was out of the competition until only two archers remained. Early on, it became evident the day’s event was between Darius and Rhoane. Everyone else was just a distraction.
The other competitors fell away as the targets were moved farther and farther across the snowy field until they were little more than tiny dots. On Rhoane’s final shot, Taryn held her breath as he drew back. He paused a moment to set his sight and then released the arrow with a hushed whoosh. It flew straight and steady, hitting the target in the exact center.
Darius closed his eyes and made a figure eight above his head before he nocked his last arrow. The silent crowd heard the arrow sing through the air, hitting the target with a dull thud. The judges took measurements, arguing for several minutes before declaring Rhoane the winner. Taryn let out a whoop, flushed with pride.
Seeing Darius compete with Rhoane had proved her instincts right. The only obstacle to his future was Lliandra. Ellie glanced at her with a shy smile and Taryn resisted the urge to tell her everything. After all, her future was going to be affected as well.
Once the empress had given the awards, Taryn went to Rhoane, congratulating the other competitors on the way. He spun her around, grinning like a schoolboy. “Congratulations,” she whispered before kissing his lips. His tension drained away and his muscles relaxed as he held her close to his trembling body. “What’s wrong?”
“Aftershock,” he joked. “I was nervous Darius might win.”
From the look of it, Darius was feeling the same way. “Come on, we need to get some food in you before you collapse.” She reached out a hand to Darius. “You, too. I’m willing to bet you both stayed here all afternoon and haven’t eaten since this morning.”
The men wore sheepish grins and Taryn scolded them for not taking proper care of themselves. Darius sulked on the way to the castle, but by the time they entered the great hall for the night’s feast, his mood had improved. After they ate too much—while drinking even more—Taryn snuck away to find her mother. When she approached, Lliandra dismissed her ladies-in-waiting, beckoning Taryn sit with her.
“Rhoane showed great prowess today.”
“He did. I’m very proud of him and Darius.” Taryn watched Lliandra’s face, but the empress gave no indication the boy had caught her interest. “I was thinking of taking him with me to Talaith as part of my personal guard, if you approve, of course.”
Lliandra’s gaze shifted to where Darius sat with the other competitors. “He has remarkable skill with the bow, but I don’t recall him having anything else to offer. Why him?”
“I trust him.”
Lliandra’s blue eyes regarded her for a long moment. “But you don’t know him.”
Taryn looked through the Mari to her mother’s skin beneath the mask. The mountain air did her good. The sallow color was gone from her face. Even her cheeks had a faint blush. “I can’t explain it, but there is something that tells me he’ll be important in my journey. Just as something tells me all is not right with you.”
“How long have you known?”
“Since arriving at Celyn Eryri,” she lied. “Who else knows?”
“No one.” Lliandra grabbed her hand. “Promise me you’ll keep this between us. Not even Myrddin is aware that I am fading.”
A lump caught in Taryn’s throat. “Why haven’t you told him?”
Lliandra pulled her close, a barrier surrounding them. “Once you start to fade, you can no longer produce heirs and your ShantiMari dwindles. I keep up this farce in the hopes that I might bear one more child to secure my throne, but I know it’s pointless. My mother’s fade lasted three seasons; her mother’s only one. I have no idea how long I have and there is too much to be done before then.”
“Can I help?”
Lliandra held Taryn’s face between her cold hands. “Oh, my daughter. How I wish you’d been raised at court. There is not
hing anyone can do, not even Nadra. My time draws near.” Tears stung Taryn’s eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks. “We’ll have none of that. A princess of the realm does not cry in public.” She kissed Taryn on the lips, a slow melding of young and old. Images spread through Taryn’s mind, things she didn’t comprehend, too quickly to grasp before they were gone as if they’d never been.
Lliandra pulled away, a single glistening tear resting near her eye. If Taryn didn’t know better, she would’ve thought it was a jewel placed there for decoration. She wiped it off with her thumb and held her mother close, inhaling her heavy perfume.
“You should be celebrating with your friends. Not worrying about an old lady.”
“You’re my mother. I’ll always worry about you.”
“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to say to you?” Lliandra joked and then her tone became serious again. “I’ve seen the way you look at the black and tan and I want you to have him. Ashanni is a good horse, but too gentle for the hard riding you put her through. Nikosana has a stout disposition and will see you through your travels.”
Taryn stuttered a thanks, shocked her mother had noticed something so insignificant. Lliandra smiled in that way a person does when they know they’ve done something good and it warms them. She didn’t have the heart to tell her Anje had already offered to buy the horse. That would only cause irritation and resentment. Instead, she hugged her mother, grateful she’d at least offered.
“Now go. Enjoy yourself, my daughter. You may take Darius for your guard if you so desire.”
Taryn drifted to her table in a state of mixed emotions, elated Lliandra would allow Darius to serve her and devastated her mother was dying. Each time her thoughts circled back to the fact Lliandra had given her two gifts in one night, guilt cut her core, because it meant her mother wanted something. And she’d use Taryn to get it.
Chapter Twenty
The Temple of Sacrifice Page 17
