Taryn moved away from the group, ostensibly to examine some portraits hung on the wall but more so she could clear her thoughts. Hayden’s kiss was nothing like Rhoane’s. There was no weakening of the knees and certainly no swooning. The kiss was nice but lacked spark. She touched her lips and recalled the strength of Rhoane’s lips on hers.
“I have a surprise for you,” Sabina whispered, and Taryn jumped. She’d not heard the girl approach.
“What is it?” Taryn said hesitantly, hoping her friend wasn’t angry with her for Hayden’s kiss.
“Marissa has left Paderau.” At Taryn’s look of shock, Sabina continued, “I’ve made a few inquiries, and I’m fairly certain her guest the other night is a visitor she’s had at the Crystal Palace.”
“You’ve seen him?”
Sabina shook her head. “They are too clever for that, but I’ve known she was sneaking a lover into the palace for a long time. My maid heard him arguing with the princess in the garden and recognized his voice. She wasn’t near enough to make out words, but she is certain it was him.”
On impulse, she kissed Sabina’s cheek. “Thank you, my friend.”
Sabina giggled. “No offense, but that’s not the kiss I had hoped for tonight.”
Taryn squeezed her friend’s fingers. “Nor I.”
At the third and final masque, guests dressed in either black or white with feathers and flowers attached to stylized masks. That night’s ball was themed asetante cuir, or hidden secret, the stark black and white meant to represent Light and Dark ShantiMari. As Taryn surveyed the room, and the ever more elaborate displays of jewels, she was glad she hadn’t grown up on Aelinae. A world where every lord or lady tried to outdo the other with a grotesque display of wealth. She shuddered at the thought.
Taryn didn’t wear any jewels to the final dance, not even the exquisite sapphire and diamond necklace the duke had given her for her birthday. Her gown consisted of little more than a tight white corset and a flowing semi-sheer skirt split to her hip. She didn’t need to add jewelry to draw attention. She pulled her mask farther over her face to hide her blush and moved through the crowd, looking for her friends.
The sound of her name made her pause.
“Princess Marissa would never admit it publicly, but she knows that girl is an Offlander. The duke took pity on her because she’s an orphan,” Lady Celia said knowingly.
“The princess says a lot of things,” a male voice replied. “Have you spoken to her?”
“Once. She’s tiresome and ignorant. From what I hear, she’s just as powerless as that Summerlands slut.”
Angry heat rose up Taryn’s neck, but she kept listening.
“The princesses seem rather fond of her. Perhaps the crown princess was mistaken.”
“Aomori, you are such an innocent. Those girls are nice to her because the empress commanded it.”
Pain sliced through Taryn’s heart.
“Once they leave for Talaith, they’ll forget all about that trash,” Celia added.
“Your fangs are showing.”
“I have claws just as sharp,” she purred to her friend. “Would you like to come to my rooms to discover them for yourself?” Her voice dropped in husky tones as she added, “No one needs to know. It will be our ownsetante cuir.”
“As much as your offer tempts me, I’m afraid I must decline. I see your mother approaches. I will leave you two your privacy.” Aomori passed Taryn without noticing her.
Taryn glanced around in time to see a majestic being, clad all in black, bearing down on Celia. She slipped away, only to be stopped by one of Lliandra’s courtiers.
“Taryn,” he drawled, “it’s nice to see you out of those men’s breeches you so favor.”
“Thank you, Lord Herbret.” She tried to move past, but he blocked the path. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m looking for my friends.” The corset was too tight, and her breath came in short gasps. She needed to escape the heat of the room.
From the opening of his mask, his little black eyes wandered to her legs before settling on her chest. “Quite an improvement, yes.” A slug-like tongue made its way around his lips before darting out and back in with alarming speed.
A slow thrumming started within her, shallow at first, barely perceptible until it made its way to her ears, pulsing against her skull. The room grew warmer, and she tried to step around him again, wishing for nothing more than sweet, fresh air.
A sweat-slicked hand wrapped around her arm, pinching her. Herbret’s acrid breath assaulted her nostrils as he hissed, “I don’t know where you came from, Offlander, but I’ve dealt with your kind before. If you think for a moment that any of these nobles will accept you and your tainted blood, you’re mistaken.” A crack of lightning flashed just outside the windows, startling the guests, but Herbret was too intent on her to notice. “I don’t know how you’ve managed to charm the duke, but your witchery won’t work on me.”
“Is there a problem, Herbret?” Rhoane removed the man’s hand from her shaking arm, bending low to whisper in his ear, “Touch her again and it will be the last thing you do.”
Herbret backed away, making apologies and claiming he was just trying to be friendly. Rhoane pressed his palm against the small of Taryn’s back and propelled her out to the garden.
Dark storm clouds marred the peaceful summer night. Air, thick with unspent energy, stirred with an electrified current. The pounding in her ears was either her heartbeat or her pendant, she wasn’t sure, nor did she care. Rhoane’s Shanti spread across her skin, dulling the clamor, easing her rage. Even after her breathing settled, she couldn’t muffle the sound of Herbret’s taunts and Celia’s cruel words.
“Thank you,” she said at last.
“I am sorry for that, Taryn.”
“I’ve dealt with worse.”
They strolled through the garden in silence with Taryn stopping every so often to enjoy the fragrance from blooming roses. They reminded her of the pub’s small garden below the London flat she’d shared with Brandt. On the rare occasions they were home, Brandt would spend hours tending the flowers, coaxing them back to life knowing full well they would wither again once he and Taryn had to leave. She bit back a sob and crushed her nails into her palms until the homesickness passed.
Gradually, she and Rhoane made their way to the orchard where they sat on a bench under sargot trees.
“Tell me, what ispizza?” Rhoane asked at length.
Taryn looked at him in surprise. “How do you know about that?”
“It is in your thoughts often tonight.”
“We agreed we weren’t going to read each other’s minds without permission,” Taryn said, an edge to her voice.
The river lapped by in gentle waves, and Rhoane said, “I have not been entering your thoughts. You seem to be dwelling on this thing. It is difficult for me to avoid.”
“It’s food from back home. Delicious and cheesy, and oh God, I so wish I had some right now. I could probably make it for you if Carga will let me use her kitchen again.”
Rhoane took her hand in his and traced the lines of her runes. “Do you regret coming here?”
She leaned against the bench, looking at him from the corner of her eye. “By ‘here’ do you mean Paderau or Aelinae?”
“Either. Both. You know what I mean. Do you wish you had stayed where you were?”
“There’s no point in looking back. This is my life now. I can either accept it or fight it. There’s more drama here than I’m used to, that’s for sure.” She plucked a leaf from a nearby tree and rolled it between two fingers. An acridness filled the air around them. She tossed the leaf aside and stared at the clear sky. Stars twinkled against a bed of deep purple.
“Brandt and I had a simple life. We traveled all the time, which made it hard to make friends, but we had each other. That just sort of made everything okay. Still, I always had this sense that I didn’t fit in, like I was an observer in other people’s lives.” She glanced at him. “Does that m
ake sense?”
“And now? Do you feel you belong here, Taryn?”
Celia’s words stung anew. “I want to, but it’s been difficult learning all the rules and customs. I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing or where I belong.”
He stroked her arm with his forefinger. “Do not try too hard to find an answer. In time, I am sure it will find you.”
The thrill his touch brought was tempered by a wave of guilt. She gently took her hand from his. “I think I should be getting back.”
“Have I said something to upset you?”
“You’re betrothed, Rhoane. We shouldn’t be here.”
He leaned back, exhaling and stretching his arms behind him. For several long moments, he stared ahead without speaking.
Taryn shifted, impatient to be away from the pull of the water and romance of the night. “I saw what Hayden did today. In the duke’s room when he kissed me and then bowed to you as if apologizing. I won’t be your mistress, Rhoane. If that’s what everyone thinks, then they’re wrong.”
He gave a curt laugh. “My mistress? Taryn, you have no idea what you are talking about.”
“Don’t pretend, Rhoane. I know I’m an Offlander. You’re just being nice to me because the empress commanded it.”
He stood before her, his eyes a dark mystery. A spark of green ShantiMari flared away from him, and he took a deep breath. “Taryn, the empress did no such thing. You are not an Offlander.” His finger traced her jawline; his thumb pressed upon her lips.
Taryn shivered against the night’s warmth. “Please don’t.” With all her will, she kept from pulling him close.
“If that is your wish. I will escort you back to the ball.”
They walked along the path in silence, Taryn not trusting herself to speak. Despite what he’d said, she was an Offlander and would never be his equal in status.
When Taryn returned to her rooms, she waited until Lorilee and Mayla finished readying her for bed before checking the looking glass. Nothing had been disturbed. She asked it to show her Brandt, and his smiling face appeared in the ball. Wherever he was, it was peaceful. Unable to sleep, she sat in a chair by the window, staring at the shifting sky.
Movement in the garden caught her attention, and she spied two lovers tangled in their ShantiMari. Streaks of ebony and gold whizzed around them. She leaned forward, resting her chin on her fist. She and Sabina were the only people she knew without power. Even Baehlon was able to perform simple tasks with his limited amount of ShantiMari.
The lovers finished their tryst and ambled off, a soft orb drifting behind them. Taryn resented their love and their power. It wasn’t fair. But then, life never was. She blew out a deep breath, and the orb blinked out.
A surprised male voice asked his partner if he’d extinguished the light. He hadn’t. Another light appeared, floating close to the man’s face. Taryn recognized him as Celia’s friend from earlier in the evening—Aomori. She didn’t recognize the other man.
Taryn blew a kiss to the men. The orb blinked out yet again.
“Tinsley.” Aomori’s terse whisper came from the darkness. “Stop playing games.”
“I’m not. Perhaps you aren’t focusing enough.” They ducked under a tree and were lost to her sight and hearing. She wished them much happiness in their endeavors. A blaze lit forth from the trees several yards from where she last saw them. The sound of angry footsteps, followed by hurried shuffling was the last she heard of the men.
She sat straight in her chair. The realization that she’d blown out their light as clear to her as the starlit night.
It wasn’t possible.
She didn’t have ShantiMari.
She held her palm in front of her and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.
“Glowing orb,” she commanded. Nothing happened. Next, she concentrated all her thought on the empty space above her palm. “Ball of light.” Still nothing.
The crushing truth that she wasn’t gifted with power flooded over her. As much as she hated to admit it, she’d wanted to be like the others. To be special.
She sighed the last of her hope and whispered, “Light.”
A faint spark flickered in her palm.
She jumped, nearly knocking herself out of the chair. “Light,” she said with more confidence. A near-transparent flame danced above her palm. Taryn’s heart beat with such ferocity she feared it would burst.
She wanted to run shrieking down the halls, showing everyone what she could do, but stopped herself. Before she told anyone, she needed to be certain it wasn’t a fluke. For most of the night, she practiced making flames, and eventually floating orbs, sending them out the window to hover in the garden. Several times, she almost dropped one on an unsuspecting passerby and had to duck beneath her window to keep from being caught.
When she was too tired to keep her eyes open, let alone the balls aloft, she fell asleep with her palm flat, an orb of light dozing silently upon it.
It was the perfect ending to an imperfect night.
Chapter 21
NOT only did Carga agree to let Taryn use the kitchen, on the condition she teach the cook how to make this mysteriouspizzadish, she offered to accompany Taryn to the market. They left the palace grounds by a side gate, and Carga steered them through the shoppers with trained efficiency. Despite her slim form, she muscled her way around the crowds, her short hair bouncing with the effort. Taryn’scynfar kept up a constant buzzing while they shopped, annoying her. Once they had all the items Taryn needed for her pizzas, they went to a tavern for their midday meal. They were nearly finished when her pendant sent an angry zap against her skin.
“Shit,” Taryn swore under her breath, rubbing her chest. “What the hell?”
Carga’s concerned look was more of the have-you-lost-your-mind kind of expression. Taryn took a sip of her mead and glanced around the tavern. When her gaze settled on a man sitting in a booth not far from them, she had the odd sensation she’d seen him before, even though he wore a dark cloak with the hood pulled low over his face.
“What’s with him?” Taryn motioned to the man.
She looked where Taryn indicated. “Who? I see no one.”
Icy chills slithered down Taryn’s neck. “There’s a man sitting right there. He’s wearing a dark hood.” The cook shook her head. “He’s right there, watching us. I can feel him.”
Carga quietly slid her dagger from its sheath, then lifted her mug and called out, “To the duke!” Everyone in the tavern raised their cups, echoing her cry. Without warning, she threw the dagger straight into the man’s chest.
Taryn watched in horror as it went through him, plunging into the wood. He slid from the booth, grinning at them, his yellow teeth catching the light from a nearby candle. When he brushed past her chair, she shuddered at the frigid air.
“Did you feel that?” Taryn challenged Carga.
The cook’s face paled. “Yes.” She retrieved her dagger from the bench and tossed several coins on the table before grabbing Taryn’s sleeve. “We must return to the palace.”
Taryn clutched her basket and hurried after her. There was no sign of the shadowy man on the streets, and even if there were, she wouldn’t have known because Carga nearly sprinted to the palace. When they passed the stables, she slowed to a walk until they reached the kitchens.
Panting, Taryn grabbed her arm. “Who was that man?”
Carga brushed her aside. “He is no one. Nothing. You do not need to worry about him. He is my problem.”
“What did he want from you?”
“What does every man want from a woman? Now, we have work to do, yes? You are going to make something delicious for us to eat. No more talk of what happened at the tavern. He cannot come here, so you need not worry.” After she unpacked her basket, she wrapped an apron around her waist before handing one to Taryn. “Work, yes?”
Taryn kept herself too busy to think about the shadow man while they made dough and sauce. The sounds and smells of the kitchen were
intoxicating. She loved the dynamic between the cooks and scullery maids, like a dance performed to the tune of spoons stirring and pans clanging.
By the time the pizzas were ready to go into the bread oven, the sun was dipping low in the east. Carga sent a page to gather Taryn’s friends while they set a table in the kitchen garden. At first Carga objected, but Taryn assured her that where she came from, eating outside was perfectly fine.
They were just setting the food down when her guests arrived. Hayden brought two additional people with him, Lords Tinsley and Aomori. Taryn greeted them without any hint she knew of their rendezvous the night before.
When everyone was seated, she stood at the head of the table, indicating the food before them. “This is my small way of showing you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” She looked at the duke. “Back home, we call this pizza. It isn’t as fancy as you’re accustomed to, but it’s one of my favorite meals. I wanted to share it with you. Enjoy.” No one moved as she helped herself to a slice.
Tessa stood and leaned over the pizza. “It smells divine, but it looks unfinished.”
“Just take some and try it.” She served herself salad and breadsticks before passing them to the duke. “Here you go, Your Grace.” She indicated a bowl. “You can eat them plain or dip them into the sauce.” She dipped a breadstick and took a bite.
Rather than making her homesick, the tang of the tomatoes and garlicky dough evoked in her a feeling of being among friends. When no one else moved to eat, she gave a snort of disgust. “Okay, listen up, people. Tonight, we don’t have any servants. It’s feed yourself or go hungry. You are all too spoiled.”
At that, Baehlon reached out and took two slices. He folded one in half before devouring a large bite. A wide grin broke across his face. With two more bites, the pizza was gone. Bolstered by his approval, the others piled their plates with food. Duke Anje declared Taryn’s pizza his new favorite while Tessa thought it must’ve been sent from the gods.
The Stones of Kaldaar (Song of the Swords Book 1) Page 18
