Reader and Raelynx (Twelve Houses)

by Sharon Shinn

  “I will tell Tayse he may inform the Riders. I assume you wish to give the news to Kirra.”

  “And Donnal. And Ellynor. No one else.”

  He regarded her a moment, his face grown sad. “And do you think even such a small group will be able to keep the secret?”

  “The mystics won’t tell. Only you can gauge the loyalty of the other Riders, but Tayse and Justin are safe.”

  He sighed. “Any one of the fifty would defend me to the death if I suddenly claimed to have sorcerous blood. They are bound to me—their loyalty is more important to them than their own lives. But they are not so bound to Amalie. Their oaths were not made to her. They will defend her because she is mine, and as such, she represents the throne. If they know that she is a mystic, I do not know if that fealty will extend to her after I am dead.”

  “Which we hope will not be for a very long time.”

  He looked suddenly tired. “I pray the gods at least let me survive this war. At least let me give her that much—a kingdom that is whole, if wounded.”

  “I think I should stay in Ghosenhall,” Senneth said.

  “And I say you should go to Danan Hall,” Baryn replied. “Attend your brother’s wedding. Your king commands you.”

  ACCORDINGLY, five days after they had returned from Carrebos, Senneth and Tayse were traveling again. A much different journey this time, she thought. With just two of them to consider, they moved speedily and with utter efficiency. They were accustomed to each other’s strengths by now, so they never had to discuss where to make camp (Tayse always chose some easily defended site) or who would make the fire (Senneth merely had to glance at a pile of kindling). They could, if they needed to, communicate merely with glances and gestures, and whenever they came upon other travelers on the road, they always agreed by some wordless communion whether to pause and share information or simply ride on by.

  Both of them were capable of long stretches of utter silence. Senneth found it easy to lose herself in her thoughts, and Tayse was always so interested in the terrain around them that he never seemed to lack for occupation. So they could have passed the entire journey without exchanging a word—but instead, they talked for almost every mile.

  Tayse wanted to know if she was nervous about seeing her brothers again. Oh, I think I got past both nervousness and rage sometime last summer. But I wouldn’t say I’m excited at the prospect. Except, of course, for seeing Will. She asked how the Riders had taken the news of Amalie’s magical heritage. Quietly. I think some of them don’t care and some of them are still deciding how they feel, but not one of them would desert the king at this hour because of it. He wanted an update on Jerril’s success with the recruits from Carrebos; she asked if he thought the regent would be the commanding officer on the field when war finally swept into Ghosenhall.

  They talked about Ellynor. “She seems cautiously happy to be here,” Tayse remarked. “As if she still thinks she might be dreaming the whole thing, or there might be a monster lurking somewhere in one of the shadows, but otherwise mighty pleased with her new life.”

  They talked about Valri. “I’ve guarded some pretty dangerous secrets in my time, but I couldn’t have kept this one for so long,” Senneth confessed. “It makes me respect her more but also fear her a little. What strength of will she has! Anyone with that kind of determination is dangerous.”

  They talked about Amalie. “She’s too young to bear the burdens that will be thrust on her if war comes,” Tayse said. “But there’s something unbreakable about her. I would be the first Rider to swear fealty to her if Baryn died.”

  They talked about Cammon. “Something happened to him while we were gone,” Senneth said. “And I don’t know what.”

  They were on Danalustrous land by now, having survived a very thorough inspection at the border, and needed only half a day to arrive at the Hall. Which is good, Senneth thought, since the wedding is tomorrow.

  Tayse gave her a questioning look. “You think Cammon was physically hurt?”

  “No. Something struck him to the heart.”

  “Something more than the startling revelation about his princess and his enemy?” Tayse said in an ironic voice.

  She laughed. “Something more.”

  “Why do you think it?”

  “Because he avoided me the whole time we were there—once he’d told me his great news, of course. You know Cammon. Usually he’s always underfoot, and even more so if any of us have been absent for any length of time. But we were gone more than two weeks and preparing to ride out again, and we only saw him for a few minutes now and then.”

  Tayse reviewed his own recent history. “I hadn’t realized it, but you’re right.”

  “And Justin said Cammon avoided him those last few days before you and I got back. And you can always find Cammon somewhere in Justin’s vicinity.”

  “Do you think he’s hiding something that he doesn’t want you to discover? That he did something you would condemn?”

  In a very soft voice she replied, “I think he’s falling in love with Amalie, and he can’t help it, and he doesn’t want me to know.”

  Tayse shrugged. “So a mystic becomes devoted to the princess. That’s not such a terrible thing. If he loves her, he will serve her with all his heart.”

  She gave him a wide-eyed stare. “I’m even more afraid that Amalie is falling in love with him. And he knows that, too.”

  Tayse’s eyes narrowed. “Do you seriously think she would take him as her lover?”

  “I think that both Amalie and Cammon have led such unconventional lives that something that seems impossible to us does not seem particularly consequential to them.”

  He smiled. “Many men have dared to love women whom they had no reasonable hope of winning.”

  She laughed, but grew instantly grave. “This is a little more outrageous than a serramarra and a King’s Rider! She will be queen, and he is nobody. You hold a respectable position that my brothers can admire, but Cammon can’t even claim that distinction.”

  Tayse didn’t seem nearly as concerned as she was, which she found both calming and exasperating. “Say it happens. She takes him to her bed. What are you afraid of? That she will bear his child?”

  “Sweet gods, I hadn’t even gotten that far in my calculations! No, I’m afraid that a number of her noble-born suitors might decline to marry her if it was discovered she had taken a lover.”

  “You’re strangely moralistic for a woman who has defied every law of her own society,” he commented.

  She exhaled a breath of laughter. “I am, am I not? Does that make me hypocritical? It is just that the laws I disregarded myself seem to have been designed to apply to Amalie.”

  “And I would say she can contravene them with even more impunity. So she has a lover. So she has a dozen. Does that truly ruin her marriage prospects? A man who loved her, or a man who wished to be king, wouldn’t care at all.”

  Senneth had never thought of it that way. “I suppose you’re right. But there are plenty of serramar who might care less about virginity and more about her choice of bedmates. If Cammon were of noble blood, they might not cavil so much. And if she has fewer candidates to choose from, I think it will be harder for her to find the right husband.”

  He turned his head to give her a long, half-smiling appraisal. “And tell me again, please, why it is so critical that Amalie marries?”

  She practically stared at him. “Because the whole kingdom is watching her and wondering if she is suitable to be queen! Because a stable alliance with a strong House will mollify the marlords—we hope—and help us stave off the possibility of war.”

  “We are already going to war,” he pointed out. “There is a navy collecting outside of Forten City. Marry her off tomorrow, and Ghosenhall will still be under attack. Why does she need to wed?”

  She absolutely had no answer for that. It had seemed to make such perfect sense, back when she and Valri and Baryn were talking strategy. Find Amalie a husband, sho
w the marlords that she was a fit and fertile princess, strengthen the alliances, avert war. But if war were to come anyway…

  “If you are so determined to get her a bridegroom, wait till the war is over,” Tayse recommended. “Reward some House that shows exemplary service to the crown. But I see no need for Amalie to marry where she has no inclination. At this stage, a husband could divide her loyalties and scheme to influence her in ways that you do not desire. She is young, yes, but she is already surrounded by advisors who are utterly faithful and united in their views. Why bring in another voice? Why bother with a husband at all?”

  “There is still the matter of heirs,” Senneth said faintly. “Eventually, she must produce a few of those.”

  His smile was even broader. “She wouldn’t need a husband for that, either.”

  She couldn’t bite back a laugh. “But this is too amusing!” she exclaimed. “You have always been far stricter than I have about the boundaries of class! And now you would upend everything! Just for the pleasure of the debate? Or is this how you truly feel?”

  “I never understood why Amalie was being rushed toward a wedding. I do understand why you want her to marry within her own rank and station, but I am not worried that a liaison with Cammon will harm her.” He shrugged. “In fact, the opposite.”

  “You think it would be a good idea for her to fall in love with Cammon?” Senneth demanded. “Oh, no, surely not!”

  “If he is lying in bed beside her at night, no assassin will be able to reach her in stealth,” Tayse said deliberately. “My first goal is to keep her alive. Everything else bends to that imperative.”

  Senneth caught her breath. Yes, Tayse always saw life in the starkest and most absolute terms. It was something she had had the skill for at one point—when her own life had been simplified to the most drastic choices of survival or death. She had lost her way a little in these past months, as she had reentered the social circles she had scorned for so long. She had gotten muddled. She had lost her focus.

  “I am not going to encourage him, even on those grounds,” she said. “In fact, I still want to wring his neck for being so heedless and—and stupid. But you might be right. Perhaps. Some small part of your argument might have merit. I will think it over.”

  His lurking smile was back. He placed his right fist against his left shoulder and bowed from the saddle. “Serra, that is all I ask.”

  DANAN Hall was festive with bridal decorations, but they had to work their way through a half dozen checkpoints to get a glimpse of the bouquets and garlands. Senneth could tell that Tayse approved of the soldiers massed around the city that surrounded the Hall; more guards patrolled the grounds of the manor itself. Trust Malcolm Danalustrous to protect his own.

  Kirra met them in the great foyer while they were still being interrogated by the steward. “Carlo, of course you remember Senneth!” Kirra exclaimed, flinging her arms around first Senneth and then Tayse. “She used to live here! Though, of course, it was a long time ago.”

  “Yes, serra, and she and her escort were here last fall,” Carlo replied. He was a thin, precise, well-dressed man who was a little vain about his appearance. “But your father has instructed me to ascertain that everyone who crosses the threshold is, in fact, on the list of expected guests.”

  Kirra had taken hold of Senneth’s arm and was pulling her toward the gracious, polished staircase. “Well, both of them are,” she said over her shoulder. She glanced at Tayse. “At least, I think so. Are you going to attend the wedding? Or are you going to spout some nonsense about Riders not being fit to participate in the celebrations of the nobility?”

  “No, Tayse is in quite an iconoclastic mood these days,” Senneth said. “Topple the social conventions! Let peasants mingle with princesses! We shall all be equals.”

  “I think I’ll need to hear the rest of this story later,” Kirra said, herding them upstairs. “But I’m glad you’re here. I was afraid you’d decide not to come.”

  “Well, with the news about ships at Forten City, I wanted to stay in Ghosenhall,” Senneth replied. “But Baryn insisted we come.”

  Kirra turned off at the landing on the second floor and tugged Senneth forward again, down the main corridor. The ceiling arched high over their heads and banners fluttered on the walls. Danan Hall was so beautiful and so restful that it scarcely allowed a visitor to entertain thoughts about something as ugly as war.

  “Baryn has called in his reserve troops. We’re readying for an onslaught,” Tayse said.

  Kirra stopped at a room not far from the stairwell and pushed open the door. The room was decorated in dark maroon shades lightened by accents of pale wood, washed gold, and pale green. “This is where you’ll stay. Isn’t it pretty? I’ve put you in the family wing, so you might stumble over my father or my stepmother when you come and go. But you’re right down the hall from me, which should be convenient. I hope our new egalitarian Tayse isn’t going to insist on sleeping in the stables.”

  Grinning, Tayse dropped his saddlebags to the floor beside the bed. “I slept inside the walls at Brassen Court,” he said. “I suppose I can do Danan Hall the same honor.”

  Kirra’s laughter pealed out. “And, of course, it is an honor to have a Rider staying under our roof again!”

  “Who else is here?” Senneth asked. “All the Houses?”

  Kirra shook her head, suddenly sober. “My father and Kiernan decided it would be unfair to ask marlords and marladies to leave their own properties when the realm is in such turmoil. Well, can you imagine? Ariane certainly wouldn’t want to desert Rappen Manor at a time like this! So they have sent out announcements proclaiming the wedding will be this day but saying that they have decided upon a private ceremony. That way, no one has to turn them down.”

  “Good strategy,” Tayse said.

  “Are all my brothers here?”

  Kirra shook her head again. “Only Kiernan and Harris. Nate stayed behind. Officially, he is ill, but Kiernan told my father honestly that he wanted to leave one of his brothers in place in case there should be trouble.”

  “And that neatly solves the problem of whether or not to bring Sabina Gisseltess with him,” Senneth said. “More excellent strategic thinking!”

  “I would not want to match wits with Kiernan,” Kirra confessed. “I like Will so much better!”

  “Though Will is not stupid, either,” Senneth warned. “He just doesn’t have Kiernan’s ruthlessness.”

  “No, Casserah will supply that,” Kirra said.

  “What’s on the schedule? Does something happen tonight?”

  “Just a dinner for everyone staying in the manor. The wedding will be tomorrow at noon. There might be a hundred people present—vassals from Brassenthwaite who made the journey, and some of our own lesser lords.”

  “So we can leave tomorrow afternoon?” Senneth said. Tayse laughed, but Kirra was horrified.

  “Of course you can’t! How rude! There will be another dinner tomorrow night, and of course there will be dancing afterward, and I must see you take a turn around the ballroom in Kiernan’s arms! And then the following day there will be a breakfast, and I think there will be a hunt for those who can’t force themselves to leave, but I would think you could be on your way as soon as the breakfast is over.”

  “I want to get back to Ghosenhall with all speed,” Senneth said.

  “Did something else happen?”

  Tayse didn’t quite laugh. “It’s a long tale,” he said. “Where’s Donnal? I’ll leave Senneth to fill you in.”

  Kirra immediately settled herself in the middle of the maroon bedspread. “Yes. Sit down. We have at least an hour before we have to dress for dinner. Tell me everything.”

  THE meal was lavish, delicious, and surprisingly informal. Forty people sat at the two long tables, but they were all the most trusted vassals of two friendly Houses, and so there was little pomp, little posturing. Then, too, Senneth reflected, neither Malcolm Danalustrous nor her brother Kiernan had muc
h use for frills or ostentation. If Kiernan had had his way, no doubt he would have seen Will and Casserah married in some hasty ceremony in a back parlor with only a handful of close friends in attendance, and he would have sent them out the door the very next day to go on with the unromantic business of ordinary life.

  Much the way Senneth herself had gotten married.

  Though it actually had been the most romantic evening of her life.

  She found herself given the chair next to Malcolm Danalustrous, a high honor. Customarily, a husband and wife were not seated together, so she looked around to see where poor Tayse had landed. Ah—he had been well-placed between Kiernan’s wife, Chelley, who was quite kind and who liked Tayse, and Malcolm’s vassal Erin Sohta. Erin was a silly and fawning sort of woman, but she fancied herself an intimate of the marlord’s and always loved to be granted special privileges. She was just the sort of woman who would be delighted at a chance to be seated next to a King’s Rider at a dinner party and then gossip about it for the next two years.

  Heartlessly, Senneth ignored both Tayse and the Brassenthwaite lord sitting on her other side, and talked to her host the entire night. Malcolm was the man she respected most, after the king; his House was the one she would have taken sanctuary in, if she had ever needed it. He was stern, stubborn, willful, fair-minded, and absolutely devoted to the land he owned. Kirra said his veins ran with Danalustrous river water and his heart was made from a curiously animate lump of Danalustrous clay. He had bequeathed his blue eyes, his black hair, his iron will, and his fierce commitment to the land to his daughter Casserah. Neither of them was comfortable to talk to. Both of them were easy to understand. Respect Danalustrous, or be gone.

  “Tell me the news,” he said. “Kirra says war is on the doorstep.”

  So she repeated everything she had told Kirra—except the parts about Amalie and Cammon, which were more interesting in their way but less important from Malcolm’s point of view. He listened intently, asked sharp questions, and shook his head when she asked if he planned to raise an army for the king.