by M. J. Scott
"Well, in Illvya they make us learn the basics of each of the four arts," Chloe said, trying for a diplomatic explanation that wouldn’t offend Katiya's religion if she was a believer. Clearly Irina wasn’t resigned to the strictures of balance, but Irina wasn't the future queen.
"But then you—" Irina broke off as the door to the room opened inward. Her face twisted into a grimace briefly as Sejerin Silya walked through it. "Oh, smelt, that's all we need." But she smoothed her face into a polite expression as her sister frowned at her.
The seer swept a glance around the room, taking in the king still talking with the other Illvyans and Katiya's uncle, and then, to Chloe's dismay, headed toward her instead.
She bowed to Katiya when she reached the group, but it was briefer than what would be strictly polite. "Lady Katiya, your health this evening." She spoke Andalyssian. Did that mean she didn't understand Illvyan, or was she making some sort of point?
"And yours, Sejerin Silya," Katiya responded in Andalyssian. She slid a sideways glance that seemed part apologetic at Chloe. "It is kind of you to join us."
Irina had gone quiet beside Chloe, the flush on her cheeks fading. Seeing her turn from animated to wary did nothing to quell Chloe's earlier uneasiness with the seer.
"Irina," Silya said.
Irina just bobbed a curtsy, murmuring, "Sejerin Silya."
"Katiya, perhaps you would introduce me to the Illvyan," Silya said.
Well, that was rude. Or did the seer not imagine that Chloe spoke Andalyssian?
"Sejerin, this is Lieutenant de Montesse. Lieutenant, this is Sejerin Silya, currently senior of the sejerin council."
Had she stressed that “currently” slightly? The sejerin council advised the king, like the Ashmeisters. So Sejerin Silya had power. It was interesting, in fact, that there was a seer here but nobody from the priesthood.
Chloe curtsied as rapidly as the sejerin had and said hello in Andalyssian, hoping her accent held up to scrutiny.
The seer regarded her with narrowed eyes, then said something to Katiya in the same language she'd used for her ritual back in the King’s Hearth.
Katiya looked somewhat surprised, then annoyed, as the seer turned on her heel and headed over to the next group.
"Good riddance," Irina muttered in Andalyssian. "Katya, when you're queen, can you send her to the outer peaks for several years?"
Chloe hid a smile, but curiosity won over amusement at Irina's obvious dislike of the seer. "If you don't mind me asking, Lady Katiya, what was that last thing she said? I know Andalyssian but not whatever language that was."
"It's seer tongue," Irina said.
Katiya shook her head at her. "It's an older form of Andalyssian," she said to Chloe, switching back to Illvyan. "Ancient, in fact. The seers use it in their rituals."
Irina snorted. "It's seer tongue. They make us learn it at school, but no one but seers ever uses it. They just do it to seem more mysterious than they are."
"Irina!" Katiya said, but the word was half a laugh.
"You know it's true. If the priests can talk normally, why do the seers need to be different?"
"Tradition," Katiya said firmly. She turned to Chloe. "And to answer your question, Lieutenant, she said, 'So this is the daughter of ravens.' I'm assuming that's a reference to your father?"
Chloe blinked. As much because Katiya knew who her father was than the phrase itself. Though the former was foolish. Katiya was to be a queen. Of course she would be as well briefed on the foreigners visiting her court.
"Who is your father?" Irina asked, eyes bright again.
"Henri Matin. He's the Maistre of—"
"The Rookery," Irina said, clapping her hands. "I know who he is." She glanced down at Chloe's hands. "You do not wear a wedding ring, Lieutenant. But you are not Lieutenant Matin?"
Ah. This was a question she had expected. She'd stopped wearing her ring after her first year in Anglion. Her widowhood was, by then, accepted in Kingswell, and she'd hated the reminder of Charl greeting her every time she glimpsed it. But Irina's query, as genuine and lacking malice as it seemed to be, still caused a pang. "My husband died," she said gently. "A long time ago."
She risked a glance at Katiya, wondering how thorough her briefing had been. She would have been a child when Charl was executed, and though it had been a scandal in Illvya, she wondered if it had been news in the farthest reaches of the empire. The Andalyssians would still have been dealing with the repercussions of the Ashmeister Elannon's plot, so maybe they wouldn’t have been focused on the ins and outs of what was happening in Lumia.
"Have you not returned to your father's house, then?" Irina asked.
Chloe lifted a brow in query at Katiya.
"Childless women who lose their husbands sometimes choose to rejoin their own families," Katiya said. "Take back their old name." She looked at her sister. "I don't think it works the same way in Illvya, Irina."
"Not exactly," Chloe agreed. "Sometimes women might change their name back if they get divorced, but most widows don’t." She didn't think muddying the waters by explaining that she actually was living with her parents again, made much sense. And she'd noted that Irina had assumed she must not have children to be a member of the army. So she might chafe against the balance, but Chloe needed to remember that Andalyssia was not Anglion. She wanted to ask more about the seers, but it didn't seem to be quite the moment.
"So you went to the Academe in Lumia?" Irina asked.
"Yes, I went to school there as a child and then completed my magical studies after my Ascension."
"See, Irina, everyone has to study. Not just you," Katiya teased.
Irina frowned. "But why must I study the useless parts? My earth sense is strong. I want to use that."
"Earth sense?" Chloe asked.
"Irina has an unusually strong talent for earth," Katiya said softly. "Most of us are more in balance. Earth sense is helpful here in the mountains. It helps to find caves or warn of cracks beneath the ice. It's mostly used in the mines, to follow the seams."
"But a daughter of Uleniska can't be a miner," Irina muttered. "They leave that to the men."
Chloe hadn’t heard of earth magic being used in that way before. How would it work? An extension of the senses a mage used to sense the ley line? More specifically attuned to the earth itself? But given Irina's sour expression, she didn't think it was the best subject to pursue. "Perhaps you can be a healer?" Chloe said, returning to their earlier conversation. "Plenty of married women are healers in Illvya. It's a handy skill in a family."
Katiya looked grateful for the change in topic. "Yes. Healing is one of the professions where it is acceptable to weave one band of talent more strongly in your power. We have stillrooms and a dispensary here in the place the healers use. I enjoy spending time there." She cast an assessing glance at her sister, who still looked somewhat disgruntled. "But, Lieutenant, why don't you tell us more of Illvya? Is it true the Academe has a tower of magical ravens?"
Chloe laughed. "Well, they're not magical as such. They're very intelligent birds though, and some earth mages bind them as familiars. Do you do that here?"
Katiya shook her head. "That would be out of balance to the creature, to bind it so."
"They benefit, too," Chloe said. "They live longer, for one thing. Do you not use bindings here at all, then?"
"Sometimes," Katiya said. "Between two people. That way it can be equal."
That was nice in theory. But no two people were perfectly evenly matched in power.
"Do you have a raven?" Irina asked as another servant appeared with a second tray of kafiet. She took one after glancing at Katiya, who, sighing, nodded permission. She took a second herself and gestured the servant toward Chloe. She was still warm and tingling from the first one, but maybe another would help her sleep. She took the glass and downed the kafiet in a quick gulp. Mint fire spun through her again, hitting faster this time. Definitely the last one for the evening.
"No." S
he shook her head, remembering what Irina had asked as the sting of the kafiet faded. "No raven. Maybe one day. I've always liked them. Do you have ravens here?"
"In summer," Irina said. "Most of our birds travel with the season. It's too cold in winter. Not enough food. There are snow eagles year-round. They're big enough to survive the storms and can fly down to Elenia to hunt in the worst of the weather."
Chloe wasn't sure she wanted to meet an eagle big enough to survive the kind of storm Andalyssia was reputed to have. "They sound impressive."
Katiya nodded. "Apparently people used to hunt with them. These days some of the men still use smaller birds. Hawks and such. Misha has a sun falcon who is quite beautiful."
"Bad tempered though," Irina said. "He bites."
Katiya didn't correct her, so presumably it was true. Having been nipped a time or two by an overenthusiastic young raven, not to mention having developed a healthy respect for what their talons could do, Chloe had no desire to tangle with a true bird of prey.
"I'll remember that," Chloe said, "should I chance to meet him."
"Well, there will be a hunt two days after the wedding," Katiya said. "The men will use their birds if the weather permits." She glanced over her shoulder. "Does Lord Castaigne hunt?"
"Well, not with birds, but he's a very good rider," Chloe said before she could think.
"Oh? Do you know him well?" Katiya asked, curiosity lighting her eyes. "Outside of the army, that is?"
"We're...acquainted," Chloe said, trying to be vague. Her cheeks were heating again. Damn Kafiet, making her careless with her tongue.
"He's very handsome," Irina said. "Is he married?"
"No-o," Chloe said, casting a wary glance at her. She didn't think, from what Irina had said before, that she was on the hunt for a husband, but she didn't want to cast Lucien to the wind as it were and declare it open season on him. Though perhaps his occupation—not to mention the fact that he was Illvyan—would make him less appealing.
"You should marry him, if you need a new husband," Irina said with a grin. "He has nice eyes."
"'Rina!" Katiya said. "That's hardly respectful. Nor is it a sensible thing to say when Silya is around."
"Why? They are nice. He looks kind. I didn't say I wanted to invade his bedchamber and have my way with him. That would be disrespectful." Irina grinned at Chloe. "Though perhaps fun."
For one horrifying moment, Chloe found herself thinking idly that Irina might not be wrong about that. Then she came to her senses and wrenched her thoughts away from the idea of Lucien lying on a bed, clothes rumpled and eyes hot and fierce. "I don't need a new husband," she said firmly. "And Lord Castaigne is perfectly able to find a wife should he want one. He and I wouldn't suit."
"No more kafiet for you," Katiya said firmly to her sister. She waved away the servant who was heading for them again. "In fact, I will call for some tea."
Chapter 15
The tea the Andalyssians served, robust and earthy as it was, was not quite enough to counteract the effect of two glasses of kafiet on top of several glasses of wine. Chloe did her best to pay attention as Katiya introduced her to everybody else in the room, but the evening began to take on a dreamy quality she recognized as her being both tired and having, as her mother would phrase it, more to drink than was ladylike.
Fortunately, it wasn't enough to make her do anything too embarrassing. Her laugh was possibly a little too fast, and she wished she could shed her uniform jacket, or throw open one of the sets of curtains and stick her head out into the cool night air, but she didn't disgrace herself. But names and faces blurred together, which meant she had to work hard to remember who was who and not make a mistake.
Finally Katiya delivered her back to Lucien's side and wished her a good night. Chloe concentrated, determined not to let him see she’d overindulged.
"Lieutenant," he said, sounding vaguely amused. "Have you had an enjoyable evening?"
She looked up at him, determined to keep her face serious. "Yes, Major." Trouble was, Lucien had been with her too many times before when the three of them—Lucien and Charl and her—had indulged in too much campenois. He knew her tells.
Damn the man.
And damn Irina for being right. He was handsome. And in the firelight, the green of his eyes was wild and tempting.
Goddess, that was another thought she wasn't going to indulge.
She looked around, seeking a distraction. "Did the colonel and the captain leave?"
"Thirty minutes or so ago. The Wardmeister wanted to go over something about tomorrow's schedule," Lucien said. "Didn't you notice?"
If she hadn't already been too warm, she would have blushed. She hadn't noticed. Damn it. Losing track of one's senior officers wasn't a good thing. "I was busy."
"So I saw. You seemed to be getting along well with Lady Katiya. The colonel said to leave you to it."
Was that a compliment? Perhaps it was. She suppressed a pleased smile. "But you're still here."
"Well, it's a big palace. I wanted to make sure you get back to your room safely. That green stuff they were serving is, er, potent."
"It's delicious."
"I don't disagree. But it would be easy to overindulge by accident, I think." Green eyes smiled down at her.
"Are you accusing me of being scuppered?"
His brows lifted. "Scuppered? No. A little merry, perhaps. And you never did have the greatest sense of direction."
She scowled at him. "It's not polite to point out a lady's faults." But she couldn't argue. She had improved her sense of direction a little over the years, but she'd need Irina's earth sense or whatever it was to find her way through the maze of hallways tonight.
"No," he agreed. "But it's also not polite to let her get lost in a strange palace either. So, Lieutenant, shall we return to our rooms? The party seems to be over."
So it was. There were a few people left in the room. Katiya and Mikvel stood, smiling at each other, near the fireplace. Irina lolled on one of the couches, yawning, clearly waiting for her sister to be done.
"All right," she agreed. "If it's not out of your way."
"My room is in the same corridor as yours," he said drily.
"It is?" She hadn't realized.
He nodded. "There are only two corridors of rooms, after all. It was a fifty-fifty chance."
He gestured toward the door, and she moved forward before he could offer her his arm. And before she did anything stupid like take it. Kafiet or no, she would keep her distance.
Lucien watched the swish of Chloe's skirts as she headed for the door, then threw a hasty bow in the direction of the king and his fiancée, who were too busy gazing at each other adoringly to pay him any heed, and followed her.
She may not be drunk, but the kafiet had added a glow to her cheeks. Hells, he suspected it had added a glow to his own. It had a kick like a mule—or maybe a rogue fer-taureau—and he'd had to down three glasses of it while he'd been talking with the king. He suspected Georg Uleniska had been trying to see if he could play a game of “coax the foreign dignitary into an alcohol-fueled faux pas.” But he'd had kafiet on his last visit here and was well aware of his limits. He'd forewarned Colonel Brodier about the stuff.
Watching Chloe walk ahead, her line of progress an oh-so-subtle snaking line rather than a straight one, he wondered if Honore had had time to warn her. Kafiet was expensive due to the rarity of its ingredients. Not the kind of thing served at general palace dinners, but he'd known it would appear at the more intimate celebrations.
Perhaps even at the wedding ball itself. Serving several hundred guests a liqueur worth its weight in gold was a kingly thing to do. Andalyssia was many things as a kingdom, but it wasn't poor.
He realized he was paying far too close attention to the sway of Chloe's hips and jerked his head up. The palace corridors were quiet and dimly lit, only a stray servant here and there moving through them. In other circumstances, it would be an intimate stroll back to their rooms.
But this was Chloe, and he was all too aware that the kafiet had heated his blood and he could very well say something stupid. Or do something stupid. But he wouldn't. Cold-fire or not, he'd never once touched a woman who hadn't invited him to do so, and he wasn't about to start with a woman who had done precisely the opposite of that.
They reached the first intersection in the corridors, and Chloe swayed a little farther right. They were going left.
Seemed he was going to have to take charge to some degree.
He hastened his steps so they were side by side. "Other way."
Chloe paused and looked up, eyes slightly narrowed. "I am aware." Her mouth quirked a little. "But lead on, Major." She waved an imperious hand in the direction of their rooms.
His breath caught. Not drunk, but definitely more relaxed in his presence than he'd seen her since before Charl's arrest. The curve of her mouth and the silly gesture hinted at the Chloe he remembered.
Back then, if the three of them had been wandering home, slightly drunk, he wouldn't have hesitated to offer his arm. In fact, she probably would have already slipped hers through both his and Charl's, walking between them and trying to coax him into singing for her or telling terrible jokes to get him to laugh. Some of his favorite memories were of their adventures.
But that was then. Now she was no longer his best friend, and Charl was not here to be a choke chain on his hunger for this woman who would as soon skewer him on the nearest sharp object than let him take her arm.
So he would be sensible. Think of something innocuous to discuss for the remaining time it would take to reach their rooms, then leave her at her door.
"What did you and the ladies talk about tonight?" he asked as they turned left. "That was Irina Uleniska, wasn't it? Lady Katiya's little sister?"
"It was," Chloe agreed. "She's an earth witch."
"Well, not strictly," he said. "They don't really have those here. Not as we do."
