by Sharon Shinn
She ostentatiously cast a glance all around them. They were highly visible to anyone who might glance out of a palace window, because there was very little ground cover near the shoreline. On the other hand, there was no convenient hiding spot where spies could lurk to eavesdrop on their conversation.
“Are we safe even here?” she asked, her voice derisive. “Should we cross the bridge to the halfway point and whisper to each other over the murmurs of the water?”
“I think we may speak freely,” he answered, grinning. “I suppose you have come to seek my opinion on some finer point of palace etiquette.”
“Just so. Even though I know you will lie to me when you like,” she said dryly, “you don’t seem to want me to stumble. So I trust you to warn me away from behaviors with catastrophic consequences.”
“I am relieved to think you trust me even that far,” he said.
“I received some advice from Elidon and your aunt Mirti, and I’m not sure it’s sound,” she said. “I’m not accusing them of trying to cause me trouble, but—”
He laughed again. “Oh, but they are both wily women who have complex agendas,” he said. “You are wise to wonder if they have your best interests at heart.”
She said bluntly, “They told me I should bring the Ardelays back in favor.”
Darien’s eyebrows shot up, and then his face assumed a thoughtful expression. “That would be an interesting step for you to take,” he said slowly. “The king has been debating the best way to mend the rift with Nelson Ardelay. He had considered inviting Nelson and his sons to one of the formal dinners, but this is better. It gives you a chance to demonstrate your own strength and prove your commitment to blood—your father’s as well as your grandmother’s. And it means that Nelson will already be somewhat reestablished before Vernon issues an invitation.”
“So I wouldn’t be condemned and banished if I brought my uncle to the palace.”
He glanced at her. “Is that what you were afraid of?”
She grinned. “It’s what I hoped for. I find court life wearisome in the extreme. What grave error can I commit that will get me flung off the mountain?”
“I have to believe you’re joking.”
“Only a little.”
He shrugged. “So what stops you from simply walking down the stairs and out the doors?”
“I don’t know—the thought that you might go hunting for me and drag me back?”
“I might go to some effort to make sure you were established in reasonable new accommodations, but I would not force you to return against your will. Though I do think you betray your family if you do not play the role it has fallen on you to play. Like it or not, you are their representative, their advocate with the king. If you abandon the palace, you abandon them.”
“I have had some experience with abandonment,” she said. “It is not as bad as everyone thinks.”
“I would wager your father did not agree.”
“No, probably not.” She kicked at a stone that lay in her path, and it bounced down the shoreline to plop into the water. She was wearing the sturdiest of her new shoes, the ones that could survive hard usage like walking outside. They were also roomy enough to accommodate socks; even so, her toes were starting to turn to ice. “Then I shall have my uncle in for a visit as soon as I can arrange it.”
“Good,” he said. He smiled. “Do you have any more questions? Any other matters on which you would like to consult my wise counsel?”
“I’m too cold to think of any,” she said. “Let’s just go back inside.”
She turned toward the palace, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm. His expression was serious. “If you did leave,” he said. “If you did simply walk out the doors and stroll down the mountain, leaving behind no word of where you were going or why, I would come looking for you. I would never stop looking for you. I would find you, too.”
She gazed up at him, her own expression neutral. “Just because you found me the last time I ran away from you doesn’t mean you would be so successful a second time.”
“Ah, but I know you much better now. And I know where you are likely to run. I could find you even more quickly.”
“There are always new places,” she said.
“Even for a coru woman,” he said, “there are finite places to go.”
She shrugged. “Why? Why not let me go? Why come after me at all, if I choose to leave?”
He was silent a moment. “Because I said I would,” he said. “Word of a hunti man.”
Everyone knew what that meant: solid as wood, unyielding as bone. She nodded but made no answer, and they finished the rest of the walk in silence.
Calvin took the formal message to Nelson Ardelay, inviting the prime and his two sons to a private luncheon in the quarters Zoe Ardelay Lalindar enjoyed at the palace. Zoe instructed Calvin to deliver the message in person so that he would know what Nelson looked like, and he could be waiting in the kierten when the Ardelays arrived at the palace two days later. Nelson would not have to humble himself to ask a servant to announce him; he would not have to endure stares and whispers. Calvin would already be there, bowing and leading the way.
Annova and Zoe had gone to some trouble to decorate Zoe’s sitting room to honor her conflicting heritage. On the day of the visit, they placed tall girandoles in the four corners of the room and fitted them with slow-burning tapers. They set a small fountain before the window and filled its bubbling waters with tiny golden fish. For the table, they made a centerpiece of a flat, transparent bowl of water; on its surface floated lit candles shaped like birds and flowers. Water and fire coexisting. Sweela and coru at peace.
Zoe dressed herself carefully in a sea-blue overrobe and trousers heavily stitched with gold embroidery in a flamelike pattern. She stood motionless beside the table, so still that none of the charms on her bracelet rattled. She was listening intently to the sounds in the palace corridors, trying to convince herself that she could identify her uncle’s heartbeat as he climbed the multicolored staircase. But she was still startled enough—or nervous enough—to catch her breath when Calvin stepped through the door, visitors at his heels.
“Zoe Ardelay Lalindar,” he said importantly. “I present Nelson Ardelay and his sons, Kurtis and Rhan.”
“Uncle,” Zoe said, bowing deeply. “Cousins. I am delighted to see you again.”
“Niece,” Nelson replied. He performed an offhand, hasty bow, then snapped back to an upright position and studied her with great curiosity.
She inspected him in return. He did not look much like Navarr, his younger brother, who had inherited his dark eyes and hair from his hunti mother. Nelson Ardelay was all sweela, with brushy red hair and a ruddy complexion, though the hair was heavily grayed and the skin was creased with wrinkles. Although she guessed him to be in his mid-sixties, the essential force of his personality didn’t seem to have banked down at all. He kept a neutral expression on his face, but it was clear he was a passionate man, quick to anger, quick to laugh. She had a sudden, swift, visceral memory of boisterous conversations at his house, loud arguments and outbursts of gusty merriment.
“Oh, surely we’re not all just going to stand around and stare at each other for an hour,” one of her cousins said, and her attention was drawn to Rhan. He was the younger of the two, burlier than his father, with a wild mane of curly red hair and a wicked smile. “I remember you, Zoe! But you were a skinny little thing with big eyes and no meat to you. Look at you now!”
He strode across the room to envelop her in a crushing hug. For a moment she was assaulted by sensations—not just the sheer physical impact of body to bone, but the electrifying leap of blood as her own sparked in recognition of his. Mine. Family. Mine. The thoughts were inchoate but powerful. She smothered a gasp and hugged him back.
“Well, if that’s how we’re greeting cousins these days,” Kurtis said, and pushed his brother aside. He was taller and slimmer than Rhan, with more orderly hair of the same bright color. Wh
en he took Zoe a bit more sedately in his arms, she felt that response in her blood again, that jolting excitement. Again, she returned the embrace with enthusiasm.
“I would apologize for my sons, but you do not seem to mind their mauling,” Nelson said, once Kurtis had released her. “Let me greet you with a bit more restraint, but just as much heartfelt happiness.” And he took both of her hands in his, squeezing them tightly and smiling down at her. There it was, even stronger this time. Mine. Mine. Blood of my blood . . .
A little dizzy, but teetering on euphoria, Zoe laughed and pulled her hands free. “I didn’t expect quite so much fervor! Everyone else has been so measured and cautious that I have forgotten what it is like to be engulfed by visitors.”
“Measured and cautious are not words that are often used to describe Ardelays,” Rhan said with a grin.
“Though we have spent some years struggling to achieve thoughtfulness and wisdom,” Nelson said with a sigh. “It has not come easily.”
Zoe gestured at the table. “Sit! Please! We’ll eat while I regain my balance and you catch me up on everything that has happened to my father’s family while I was in exile.”
Nelson was instantly grave. “I was very sorry to hear about my brother’s death,” he said as the three men settled around the table. “We corresponded frequently while he was out of favor, but I only saw him once every year or so, and that loss cut into me deeply. I missed him.”
Zoe was pouring water into their goblets, so she was able to pretend that all her attention was on this task. Her father had met with Nelson almost every year? Had those visits been part of his infrequent pilgrimages to nearby towns during the times Zoe was not permitted to accompany him? As she had gotten older, she had assumed those journeys involved visits to accommodating women. It had not occurred to her that he had maintained his connection to his family—to Zoe’s family—and had not invited her along.
“I miss him still,” she said, her voice steady. “And yet he was not a perfect man.”
“Far from it,” Nelson agreed. “But then, that describes every Ardelay.”
She smiled at him as she took her seat. “So tell me about the Ardelays,” she invited. “It seems their fortunes ebbed when my father fell into disgrace.”
“They did,” Nelson said. “Though I blame that bitch Christara—”
“Remember your audience,” Kurtis interposed.
“Sorry, Zoe—I blame your grandmother for most of our downfall. She set out to ruin your father, and she did so, but she didn’t care that we came tumbling down after him.”
“You make us sound pathetic and helpless!” Rhan exclaimed. “It is true we lost some properties. And some trade deals. And some allies. But we have not done so badly after all.”
“So? How have you been propping up your fortunes?” Zoe asked as she handed around the first platters.
“Mostly, we invested in land down by the southern coast,” Kurtis answered. “It was land that was bad for farming, bad for mining, bad for anything, it seemed, and nobody wanted it. But we’ve built a couple of huge factories there and made a small fortune on manufacturing. We’re so close to the coast we can buy raw materials cheap—and ship out finished products straight from the warehouse.”
“What are you manufacturing?” Zoe asked, nibbling on a crumbling sweetcake.
“Mostly parts for other factories,” Kurtis said with a laugh, taking two small sandwiches. “But the real money is going to be in transportation.”
“Smoker cars,” Rhan said when Zoe looked confused. “We’ve entered into a deal with the Dochenzas—”
“Very quietly,” Kurtis interrupted.
“To produce the elaymotives that run on their compressed gas. So far, there have only been a couple hundred put together by hand. We can make a thousand in a year. It’ll change the way everyone travels.”
“It’ll change the whole economy,” Nelson said. “We’re poised to become very rich.”
“How nice to hear!” Zoe said. “I suppose you don’t need me, then!”
Rhan reached across the table to lay his hand on hers. Again, she felt that recognition singing in her pulse. She liked the sensation so much she didn’t pull away. “Oh, but we want you,” he said. “Little cousin Zoe, returned to us at last! Even if you couldn’t haul us back into the king’s good graces, we would be delighted to find you again.”
“But I for one would like to be back in the king’s good graces,” Kurtis said honestly. “If you can figure out a way to make that happen, I would be everlastingly grateful.”
She looked at Nelson, her brows lifted in a question. He shrugged and swallowed a mouthful of food. “I’m getting older,” he said. “I used to relish the battles, even the ones that didn’t result in victory. I just enjoyed the fight. These days it doesn’t matter to me so much who is in power and who has been kicked down the mountain, and arguing takes too much energy. But I would like to see my sons reinstated, and I will do what I can to make that happen.”
She glanced at Kurtis. “Are you next in line to be prime, then?”
“Yes, though I rarely make a decision without Rhan’s input.”
“And do you have families of your own?”
“I have a wife—a sweela girl who was not embarrassed to marry a man who is unwelcome at court!—and ten-year-old twins,” Kurtis replied. “Rhan has so far proved impossible to satisfy.”
“Impossible to tame,” his brother said with a grin.
“That’s how you can help us out,” Kurtis said. “Arrange a political marriage for Rhan! Someone from the best family, of course—maybe even one of the princesses—”
“I think they’re all a little young for him,” she said, amused. She thought Kurtis might be in his mid-thirties, Rhan a year or two younger.
“I’m willing to wait. I’m happy to wait,” Rhan said. “I’m not so sure that married life is for me.”
“A common Ardelay failing,” Nelson said dryly.
Zoe tilted her head to one side. “What kind of girl do you think you would like?” she asked. “Hunti? Fire burns wood, but wood sustains fire—hunti matches are always good for Ardelays, aren’t they? I think a torz girl would be too dull for you altogether.”
“Earth smothers fire,” Rhan agreed. “Fire irritates earth.”
“Perhaps a coru woman,” Nelson suggested. “Fire and water are a powerful combination.”
Kurtis snorted. “Even with Christara dead, I don’t think Lalindars are ready to start marrying their daughters off to Ardelays again.”
Zoe laughed. “And I am hardly in a position to begin matchmaking,” she said. “I will certainly look around and see if any likely candidates present themselves. But first we will consider how respectable we can make you.”
“Yes, let us talk about how to rehabilitate the Ardelays,” Kurtis said.
“Well, you’re here. That’s the first step, as I understand it,” Zoe said.
“Yes, we’re here, and we hope you will join us for dinner on the next firstday,” Kurtis said. “We’ll have a few other friends there—a small gathering—I admit it might not be much fun for you, but it will be important for us to show you off. If you will come.”
“I will,” she said.
Rhan hastily swallowed a large bite of curried meat. “Oh, but I know!” he exclaimed. “She can crew the boat with us! For the regatta! That would be a mark of high favor, to have the Lalindar prime actually with us on the water!”
“Excellent idea!” Kurtis approved. “That is—Zoe—if you will?”
“Can you believe that this is the third time I’ve been asked to sit in someone’s boat?” she asked.
“Of course I’d believe it!” Kurtis replied. “I would think you would be a lucky talisman. Anyone would be glad to have you.”
“Can you actually row?” Rhan demanded. “Or will you be a liability?”
His father and brother exclaimed aloud and demanded he apologize, but Zoe laughed and threw a baked roll at
him. “The water loves me,” she said. “I might not be a good oarsman, but I don’t think you’d find my presence a hindrance. Far from it.”
Rhan placed his hand over hers again. He was clearly a flirt, whether the nearest woman was a stranger or a blood relation, but it was rather delightful to be flirted with, Zoe thought. “Then the Ardelays claim you,” he said with a smile. “You can’t turn us away now.”
Darien Serlast approved the notion of Zoe taking her place in the Ardelay boat when she had a chance to ask him about it the next day. “Though it is a bold step,” he added. “It might raise some eyebrows. But I don’t think it will harm you.”
“I am less worried about harming my own reputation than failing to do the Ardelays any good,” she told him. “I care very little how I am perceived.”
“That’s because there is a natural contrariness to you that seems to have been designed specifically to drive me mad,” Darien replied.
She laughed out loud. “Oh, no, I don’t think of you at all when I am trying to determine my next course of behavior.”
He smiled in return. “I find that I do not believe you,” he replied. “I am convinced you think of me a great deal of the time.”
It annoyed her that this was true, so she snapped, “Only when I’m feeling spiteful.”
His smile widened. “As I said. For I am certain you are feeling spiteful more days than not.”
He made her want to laugh; he made her want to scowl and stomp from the room. Instead, she threw her hands in the air and shook her head and did not reply.
It was easy to forget about Darien Serlast a few days later during the rather rambunctious party she attended at her uncle’s house. There were at least a hundred guests present, half of them related to her, all of them loud and outspoken and vying for attention. She couldn’t keep track of the second cousins and third cousins and relations once removed, but every time she touched a hand or submitted to an embrace, she could tell which ones she shared a bloodline with and which ones were tied to the Ardelays by marriage or friendship. She came away from the event feeling suffused with warmth; her cheeks were heated and her blood seemed to pulse with an added exuberance. She was not sure how often she would be able to survive such outings, but she had certainly enjoyed this one.
