Reader and Raelynx (Twelve Houses)

by Sharon Shinn

  Valri watched her both days with a close and silent attention, and her mood seemed to grow darker by the hour.

  Cammon found himself worrying about both of them.

  He tried to articulate his thoughts to Justin, who merely shrugged. “Not your business,” Justin said. “Your role is easy. You’re there to make sure no one dies. It doesn’t matter what else breaks around you.”

  “What if Valri tries to murder Amalie?” Cammon said glumly, but Justin only grinned.

  “You protect the princess from the queen,” the Rider said. “See? It’s still easy. You have one task. Focus on that task.”

  Ellynor was more sympathetic. “Valri has done hard things before,” she said. She was lightly kneading the back of Cammon’s neck, since the tension of the past two days had given him a rare headache. The pain had dissolved with her first touch, but her hands were so soothing he didn’t want her to stop. “You don’t need to be concerned about her. And Amalie is only doing what every young girl must do—figuring out what she is capable of and throwing off the restraints her parents have put around her.” She stopped rubbing his neck, tousled his hair, and sat next to him at the table.

  “It’s probably even harder for Amalie than it is for a Lirren girl to break free of her protectors,” Ellynor added. “From what you’ve said, Amalie has been so carefully guarded her whole life that she might have been smothered in care. I think it’s a good sign that she is starting to test her power.”

  Justin laughed. “You say that because you’re a rebel yourself.”

  She smiled at him but said, “She is to be queen. Surely she needs to start developing her own instincts before she is suddenly sitting on the throne.”

  “Well, but her instincts made her want to set the raelynx free!” Cammon said.

  Justin shook his head. “Damn. Never saw anything like that.”

  “And what did you learn then? Two things,” Ellynor reminded Cammon. “She can control it. And she heeded the words of an advisor she trusted. Both of those things ought to reassure you at least a little.”

  “You mark my words,” Justin said. “One day that raelynx is going to be out. And nothing I say, or Valri says, or Cammon says, or Senneth says, will make her put it back in its pen.”

  “Maybe,” Ellynor said. “But wait until that day comes before you decide whether or not she’s done a foolish thing.”

  IN the morning, despite Valri’s protests, Amalie had another weapons session with Wen and Janni—in the Riders’ training yard.

  “I’m perfectly happy to have her learn how to wield a knife, but let her learn inside! Where it’s safe and it’s warm!” Valri exclaimed as she and Cammon hung on the fence rails, watching.

  The day was bitterly cold, though at least there was neither wind nor snow. Cammon imagined that the combatants on the field were plenty warm, though he and Valri were freezing.

  He grinned. “Can’t imagine she could be safer anywhere than in a field surrounded by Riders,” he said. “Even if Halchon Gisseltess came bursting through the gates this very minute with an army at his back.”

  Valri shivered. “Don’t say that.”

  Cammon watched as Amalie dodged a blow from Janni and went tumbling to the ground. The princess’s cheeks were streaked with mud, and her borrowed clothes—a close-fitting vest and leather pants tucked into sturdy boots—were already filthy. Yet she had a very businesslike air about her. She had braided back her red-gold hair, pulled on the proffered gloves, and listened to the day’s instructions with calm intentness. She hadn’t done a half-bad job, either, he thought. She would have been dead only four out of the five times Janni had attacked her this morning. Pretty good record for the rawest of recruits.

  “Maybe you could stand a little training, too,” he said. “Learn how to use a knife.”

  Valri gave him a scornful look. “You think I don’t know how to cut a man’s throat?”

  He was so surprised that he stared back at her a moment and then he burst out laughing. “I suppose you do. You’re fierce enough. And you come from fierce enough people. Do you have brothers like Ellynor’s? Do they constantly make war with other clans? All I know is that you were born in the Lirrens and you left. I don’t know what your life was like before.”

  She had turned her moody gaze back to the field, where Amalie was circling Janni, her own blade upraised. “If Ellynor has told you much about her life, she has essentially described my own. Except I was wilder than Ellynor, more dissatisfied. I schemed and schemed about getting free. Running away. While I was still a child, I dreamed about declaring myself bahta-lo and walking away from the clans. It was no surprise to anyone that I did it.”

  “But it seems to me,” he said softly, “that you are even more confined now than you were in the Lirrens. Tied to the king, tied to his daughter. You named yourself bahta-lo and you crossed the Lireth Mountains, but you are hardly free.”

  Her smile was a little grim. “You’re right. And I knew it before I agreed to follow Pella back here. I was trading one kind of prison for another. But at least it was a prison I chose.”

  He shook his head. “It still doesn’t really make sense to me. That you would choose this life. The Lirrenfolk barely even acknowledge Baryn as king. Why would you care if his daughter lived or died? Then, I mean,” he added hastily. “Now I’m sure that you love Amalie and are willing to do anything you can to protect her.”

  Still watching the field, Valri nodded slowly. “Yes. I will do everything in my power to guard her. But I crossed the mountains for Pella’s sake—I had not even met Amalie at that point. I don’t know if I can explain it to you. Pella was almost a stranger to me. She looked nothing like me or anyone I knew, for she had bright gold hair and that open smile, just like Amalie’s. And yet I recognized her. She was in some way a sister.

  I felt that she had come to the Lirrens specifically to find me.” Valri glanced at Cammon and glanced away. “I thought the Great Mother—who counts every soul, who knows where every one of her sons and daughters lies sleeping at night—I thought she had directed Pella to me. I thought the goddess had given me this task. And so I accepted it.”

  Ellynor, too, seemed to have a direct and personal relationship with that night goddess who watched over Lirrenfolk. It did not surprise Cammon nearly as much as Valri might think to hear that she followed the will of the deity. He asked, “And have you been sorry that you gave up so much to come here? Or glad?”

  Valri made a sound that might almost have been a laugh, except it wasn’t. “Sorry every day. I miss them more than I thought I possibly could—my sisters, my brothers, my cousins, my—everyone. And glad every day. Convinced that my presence has saved Amalie from both grief and danger. And sorry again, as I find grief and danger creeping closer anyway, and I think I have no way of keeping them away from her.” She turned her head to survey him. “And glad again, when I think she has other friends besides me to stand at her side.”

  Her words gave him a little glow, especially since the last time Valri had talked to him about Amalie she had been warning him to keep his distance. She must have recovered some of her faith in him. “What will you do, once Amalie is named queen?” he asked curiously. “We hope that will be years from now, of course! But you will be widowed then, I suppose. Will you go back to the Lirrens? Will you stay in Ghosenhall?”

  “I will stay as long as she needs me. But after that—I’m not sure. I may go back. I may travel. I may leave Gillengaria altogether, who knows? But I would like to see the Lirrens again someday. I miss them, I miss—” She shrugged and closed her mouth.

  He didn’t know what made him say it. Maybe there was an image in her mind, and her emotion was sharp enough that he could sense it, though normally she was so adept at cloaking her thoughts. “You could marry again.”

  She gave him a swift look in which he read a sudden surge of pain. “If anyone I cared for would have me.”

  He caught his breath. “Did you leave someone behind
in the Lirrens?”

  She hesitated and then she nodded. “We were both young, of course. I was about the age Amalie is now. But I loved him. I thought it would kill me to leave him. Yet I survived, and he survived, and now I am married to the king.”

  “You’re still young,” Cammon pointed out. “If something were to happen—well—of course I don’t want anything to happen, but if it did—”

  “You think he will have waited for me?”

  “I would have, if it were me,” he said.

  The words hung between them for a moment, both of them surprised. He thought Valri softened toward him in that instant, lost just the tiniest edge of her diamond hardness. “Ellynor says he has not yet taken a bride,” Valri said in a low voice. “But that he does not speak of me.”

  “Does everyone in the Lirrens know everyone else?” he demanded. “I know you’re all part of these complicated clans, but—”

  “He is Ellynor’s cousin. I believe your friend Justin actually met him during his stay.” She gave him a smile, but he thought it was forced. “So, you see, I have fewer secrets every day.”

  He didn’t know how to say how honored he was that she had trusted him with a few of those secrets, nonetheless. Instead he smiled and spoke lightly. “I’m guessing you still have a few left.”

  Her own face was sad. “Unfortunately, you’re right.”

  VALRI’S last and worst secret was revealed that very afternoon.

  Amalie had cleaned up and changed clothes and now sat in the rose parlor looking the very picture of demure royalty. The three of them had settled in their customary chairs before the window, hoping to absorb the sunlight, while Valri went through Amalie’s correspondence. None of the letters were calculated to please Cammon, since they were all from young lords or their fathers, all desirous of seeing Amalie make a connection with their Houses.

  “Here’s a young man from Coravann who plans to be in the city next week,” Valri said, scanning a few pages that were accompanied by a long, slim box tied with gold ribbon. “He has sent you a small gift as his envoy—that’s a nice way to put it, don’t you think? Anyway, he hopes you will accept it and possibly wear it when he comes to call.”

  “I thought the princess had already entertained a suitor from Coravann,” Cammon said.

  “Yes, the marlord’s son,” Valri said. “But other high-ranking nobles will of course come to pay court. It is not always politic for a princess to marry the heir to a House. Sometimes a lesser lord is a better prospect, as he would know.” She glanced at Amalie. “I’m guessing he’s sent you jewelry, don’t you think?”

  Amalie was untying the ribbon. “Probably. I hope it’s not hideous, or I won’t want to wear it.”

  “Surely something made with lapis lazuli,” Valri said. “Isn’t that the gemstone of Coravann?”

  “Or the royal lion,” Amalie guessed.

  But they were both wrong. When Amalie opened the box, she revealed a creamy white moonstone nestled on a bed of black silk. A heavy silver chain coiled around it like a protective serpent.

  “Oooh, very pretty,” Amalie said, lifting it from the box and holding it up by the clasp. The moonstone, swinging languidly at the end of the chain, held an internal phosphorescence that seemed unaffected by the sunlight—no brighter, no duller. Just the sight of it made Cammon’s skin prickle; he knew it would sear his hand if he touched it.

  “Looks like the chain’s just the right length,” Valri observed. “The moonstone will cover your housemark if you put it on.”

  If you are truly a mystic, I will discover it now, Cammon thought. For you will scream aloud as soon as it lies against your skin.

  Amalie quickly took off the pendant she habitually wore, consisting of ribbons of gold woven together and studded with the gemstones of the Twelve Houses. When she fastened the gift necklace around her neck, the moonstone fell perfectly on the small red mark centered just above her breasts.

  She did not cry out, but Cammon did.

  He felt as if a giant hand had closed over his body and clawed hard, carelessly stripping away his flesh. He felt as if a malevolent spirit had put its mouth against his and sucked the air from his lungs with one disastrous kiss. He felt as if his mind had been darkened, his eyes had been blinded, all his senses shut down and replaced by pain. Choking and dazed, he toppled to the floor, where he crouched and coughed for breath. Through a roaring in his ears he heard Amalie call his name, heard Valri exclaim, Take it off! Take it off! Felt Amalie’s hand on his shoulder, Valri’s palm against his cheek.

  Then, just as abruptly, the world righted itself again. Pain gone, sight clear, hearing perfect.

  Cammon glanced around to find Amalie and Valri kneeling on the floor beside him, Amalie still with her hand on his shoulder. She had yanked off the necklace without even bothering to undo the clasp, so now it lay, twisted and broken, halfway across the room where she had thrown it.

  “Cammon!” she repeated, her eyes wide with fright. “What happened? Are you all right?”

  He stared back at her and felt the world start to wobble again, because he had a terrible suspicion about what had just happened and it struck at the foundations of everything he knew.

  “When you wore the moonstone,” he said, his voice sounding a little scraped, as if he had been screaming. “When it touched your skin. It stole my power. It stole my magic, and fed all of it to you.”

  Amalie dropped her hand and didn’t say anything. Cammon leveled an accusing stare at Valri.

  “This is what you have been hiding, all this time,” he said. “She’s a mystic.”

  “Amalie is—”

  He didn’t let her finish. “A mystic. But not just any mystic. She has thieving magic. If there is a goddess who watches over her, it’s the goddess who only knows how to rob from others—the moon goddess, who takes light from the sun.” He pointed across the room. “That’s why she can wear a moonstone and it doesn’t burn her skin. It’s not stealing from her, it’s stealing from any other mystic in the room.”

  “I never heard anyone say that moonstones steal a mystic’s power,” Valri said. “Only that they burn a mystic’s skin.”

  He pushed himself to his feet, feeling shaky, feeling betrayed, feeling stupid. The others stood when he did, but they just watched him as he took a few clumsy steps away and began pacing. “I don’t think anyone ever realized why the moonstones burned us,” he said, trying to think it through. “And I’ve touched moonstones before and never had a reaction like that.” He gave Amalie one quick, hard look, but she didn’t meet his gaze. Her eyes were downcast and her face was shuttered. “Maybe moonstones themselves don’t have much power. They’re like—like—leeches that bite our skin and try to feed on our energy. But they’re not truly harmful to us unless we touch them in the presence of someone who can use them. Who can reach through them as if they were portals and try to drain us of every drop of magic we possess.”

  Amalie spoke to the floor. “I didn’t try to do that. I’ve never held a moonstone before. I didn’t know what would happen.”

  “I suppose most people who wear moonstones are just ordinary folks, and they can’t use the jewels against us,” Cammon said. “But someone with thief magic—” He abruptly halted in his pacing. “Coralinda Gisseltess,” he whispered.

  “Are you saying she is a mystic?” Valri asked in an acid voice. “I’ve never heard that before.”

  “She must be,” he said, resuming his pacing as his agitation increased. Senneth! he called, a single almost witless cry. He needed her to help him sort this out. “She’s the one who is covered with moonstones. She’s the one who wants them handed out all over Gillengaria. She’s using them to draw away our power. And feed it to herself.” He stumbled against a chair, so blind with sudden knowledge that he couldn’t properly navigate the room. “This changes everything we know about Coralinda Gisseltess.”

  Neither of them replied to that, and neither did Senneth, to whom he sent another pleadin
g message. He was halfway around the room now, and he whirled around to face them across the intervening distance.

  “But you,” he said, and he knew that his confusion and his sense of hurt were naked on his face. “Both of you. You have known this awful secret for years now, and you didn’t even tell me, tell us, the people who were there to keep you safe. Don’t you think we should have known? Last summer when we were at every House in Gillengaria? Don’t you think that we might have needed this information in order to protect the princess?”

  “And don’t you think that this is the most terrible secret anyone in the kingdom can possibly know?” Valri shot back. Amalie just stood there looking miserable and stricken, her hands in fists at her sides. “Don’t you think it has cost me something every day to conceal it? I have kept it to myself too long to be offering it up to every random acquaintance, whether mystic or king’s guard! Who can be trusted? The heir to the kingdom is a mystic! Surely that would bring war down on us if nothing else would! And you wanted me to tell you? I have been afraid you would discover Amalie’s secret from the day you first met her! And now that you know, I’m even more afraid!”

  It was deliberately unkind. Cammon stood straighter, trying to make his expression stern, not wounded. “Who else knows?” he asked in a dignified way.

  “No one,” Valri said. “Except the king.”

  “Not even her uncle?”

  “No,” Valri said, and Amalie shook her head.

  “I find that hard to believe,” Cammon replied. “She told me she spent months at his house when she was a child. Surely he noticed something then.”

  Finally Amalie looked at him, and her expression was lost and sad. “No,” she said. “My mother and my grandmother were always there, and they kept my magic in check. And they were always very secretive about their own powers. I’m not sure he ever realized what they were capable of.”

  “Pella was a mystic, too? Like this?” Senneth had been right in her speculations—though neither of them had suspected the whole truth.