Prism Cloud

by Jeff Wheeler

  Cettie looked at Rand hopefully.

  “With both of you needling me, the odds are stacked against me, I’m afraid,” Rand said, holding up his hands. “I’m uncomfortable leaving Anna so sick, but I don’t know what else I can do. Doctor Donaldson is capable. And if a vicar can’t heal her, then we can only cling to hope. I assume the good lieutenant wanted to handle this matter immediately? We’d need to get ready.”

  “I can handle the preparations, sir,” Joses promised.

  “Can I persuade you to stay the night?” Rand asked Cettie.

  The thought of the delay filled her with dread. She needed to speak with Lady Maren at once, both about Fitzroy and about Anna. “I have to get back. I can send a zephyr for you in the morning if you like.”

  Rand shook his head. “I think Joses is overeager enough to gather our things quickly. Perhaps we can go back to Fog Willows . . . with you?”

  His request made her slightly uneasy, but there was no rational reason to refuse it.

  She nodded to him, and Joses grinned and hurried away.

  “Well, at least something good has come from this misfortune,” Rand said, his eyes looking intently into hers. “We’re talking again.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  FATAL DECISIONS

  How was it possible that she felt even worse leaving Gimmerton Sough than she had upon arriving? Troubles truly did seem to come in pairs, like one storm that followed in the wake of another. The tempest cruised at a steady pace back toward Fog Willows, Cettie at the helm. Rand and Joses were below.

  What was she to say to Lady Maren? Anna was deathly sick, the cause unknown. Cettie knew her mother would want to go to Gimmerton Sough and see Anna for herself. Could she really add to her burden by revealing the vision she’d had of Father being ambushed? Cettie was still resolved to try to do something about it, but what if she didn’t succeed in preventing the attack? She loved Father so much. The thought of losing him was excruciating.

  “You seem very far away,” Rand said, startling her. She had not heard him approach, but the wind was blowing against them after all. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  “I was lost in my thoughts,” she replied, gripping the helm more tightly. He walked around and leaned against the railing, folding his arms.

  “You’re worried about your sister.” He nodded sympathetically. “Part of me is grateful to be doing something. I hate being idle, and I’m a terrible nurse. But I’m worried about her too. She’s become . . . a dear friend.” He gave her a wary look, as if preparing to receive bad news.

  “She is the sweetest girl in the world,” Cettie said.

  “That is true,” he said with a rueful chuckle. Then he sighed. “Must we keep dancing around this shadow between us? No man relishes being thwarted, least of all to a rival. Your devotion to the good doctor is admirable, truly, but I had the sense that you and I were forming a . . . connection. Was I wrong? Was I deluding myself?”

  Perhaps she ought to give him an explanation. But she didn’t feel capable of having this conversation at such a moment.

  “Where is Joses?” she asked, glancing back toward the lower deck.

  “He’s being a good valet and polishing my boots,” Rand said. “I see you’re discomfited by my probing question.”

  “No, it’s just that I am engaged to be married, and I’m not sure I should be having such an intimate conversation with another man.”

  “Intimate?” he scoffed. “Hardly. We haven’t had a real conversation since you abandoned me the night of the ball.” He winced. “Sorry, that was too strong a word. When you unceremoniously departed. But I hope you recognize that we never shunned you. Even though you breached protocol in an egregious manner, neither my sister nor I took revenge. The shunning has all been on your side.”

  Cettie bit her lip, but she managed to keep her outward appearance calm. If Joses were on deck with them, she’d feel much more comfortable. “I humiliated you, and I’m sorry for that,” she said after a lengthy pause.

  “Apology accepted,” he said, unfolding his arms and clenching the railing behind him. “That is out of the way now. The next time I visit Fog Willows, I hope you will at least be civil enough to greet me. I don’t hate you, Cettie. You hurt me, but I have tried to move onward.” He gave her a pointed look. “I was tempted to drown my hurt another way, but I did not.”

  He spoke of poppy, an addiction he’d finally broken.

  “My sister helped preserve my sanity,” he continued. “And your sister has been kind and encouraging as well. But it is you who changed my course, you who helped me leave that habit behind. If you bid me go to the moon with you in this ship, I daresay I would.”

  “I don’t deserve such devotion,” Cettie said, shaking her head.

  He shrugged and looked away. “We can disagree and still be friends. We have to be neighbors, though.”

  That won a smile from her, which made him grin in turn.

  The clatter of quickly moving feet met her ears, and Joses burst up onto the deck. “The boots are polished, sir!”

  “Good, now clean my arquebus as I’ve trained you. I’m not done talking to her yet.”

  Joses’s shoulders sagged, but he turned obediently and went back.

  “I saw Lady Corinne with Mr. Batewinch when I arrived,” Cettie said.

  His mood altered noticeably. His nostrils seemed to flare with resentment. “Did you?”

  “I’d never met her before.”

  “That isn’t a surprise. I think Lord Fitzroy is the only person in the empire who doesn’t owe her money. She came to deliver her rejection in person. How considerate.”

  “Rejection?”

  “That was too cryptic, I’ll admit.” He gazed at the horizon a moment, then folded his arms again and faced her. “It’s likely the war between us and Kingfountain is over. From what I’ve heard, the emperor is pushing for a marriage to seal the peace permanently. That means officers, such as myself, will be out of work. What good is a dragoon anyway, except for chasing deadly monsters?” He winked at her. “I’ve decided I need to be useful. I can’t sit in Gimmerton Sough day and night and watch the clouds go by. Even hunting and hawking is not satisfying me anymore. And I think I’d be lousy at growing cabbages.”

  His choice of vegetable made her laugh.

  “I amuse you still? Good. So I’ve decided to run for a seat in parliament. Maybe someday, when my hair is snow white, I’ll earn a seat on the privy council. But unlikely. At least I can do some good in parliament. I approve of the measures Lord Fitzroy is taking. He needs more support, people who will fight the corruption in the government with him. I need a good fight. I also need, it turns out, a great deal of money, for getting a seat is costly. So of course I asked the wealthiest woman in the empire for a . . . contribution. Well, she said no. I think it’s apparent she doesn’t approve of my political leanings.”

  Cettie felt another pang at the mention of her father. He’d done so much good in his short time as prime minister. The government had increased its allocations to feed and shelter the poor, and more money was being spent on fixing dilapidated buildings, bridges, and roads in the cities on the surface. Those projects, in turn, generated more work for the poor. Of course, as Rand had mentioned, there were those who didn’t approve.

  The memory of what Lady Corinne had said about Rand’s rent, how she wished to strangle his income to preserve it, made Cettie like the woman even less.

  “Well, I do,” she answered, nodding at him. “I oversee Lord Fitzroy’s contributions. I think something can be arranged to help you.”

  His eyes brightened, and he leaned forward. “You’d do that for me?”

  She nodded.

  The smile he gave her made her heart lurch despite herself. “Well,” he said in a surprised tone, “I am not too proud to refuse aid from my foes.” He paused. “That was a poor joke. I’m still astonished. Thank you, Cettie. I never would have thought, or dared, to ask.”

/>   She saw her home in the sky. Still a good distance, but the sight came as a relief.

  “Can I ask you a question, Rand?”

  “Of course. You can ask me anything.”

  She wasn’t sure she should bring this up, but it had been weighing on her. “Remember the man we killed in the grotto at the end of the river walk? The one who freed the Fear Liath?”

  “Why yes, I do recall the man. He tried to drown me, and moments like those tend to be permanent in the memory.”

  “Are you certain he was dead? Is it possible he might have recovered?”

  There was a look of confusion on his face, but also something else. The “something else” was gone too soon for her to interpret it. “What a peculiar question to ask, Cettie. I saw his body go into a box. He’d been shot multiple times, including by you. Without a doctor tending to his wounds . . . I just don’t see how it makes sense that he could have survived.” He looked genuinely perplexed. “Why do you ask this?”

  It was exactly what she’d feared he would ask. She hesitated.

  Rand leaned forward. “I know you’re not just making conversation. You said before that the man claimed to be your father.”

  “I did,” she answered, watching her manor as they neared it. “He did.”

  “Cettie?”

  She felt the intensity of his gaze before she turned to look at him.

  “Have you . . . had another vision?” he asked softly.

  He was one of the few who knew about her power, that she was the first harbinger in more than a generation.

  She nodded, and then immediately wished that she hadn’t. How could she tell him something that she hadn’t yet shared with her own family? It didn’t seem right. But she yearned to tell someone, to seek advice from someone she trusted.

  “And your vision involved . . . him?” he pressed. “I’m just deducing here. Your reticence is alarming me.”

  She closed her eyes, wavering even more.

  “Did you see him kill someone?” Rand asked pointedly.

  She squeezed her eyes, and then something within her broke. The weight on her shoulders felt impossible for her to bear alone. “Yes,” she answered, opening her eyes and looking at him in anguish. “I saw him in Kingfountain. He shot . . . he shot Lord Fitzroy.”

  Rand looked absolutely stunned. He stared at her incredulously for a moment, then his look transformed into one of horror. “By the Mysteries, that would lead to war. All-out war. When? When did you have this vision, Cettie?”

  “On my way to see you,” she said. “I felt the Mysteries strongly, and then the vision opened up. There were decorations on the street, some sort of festival or . . .”

  “A wedding,” Rand said, nodding.

  “It was on the bridge by the sanctuary of Our Lady. I heard the gunshot, saw the smoke. I saw Father . . .” Her voice started to tremble, and then tears came gushing out of her eyes. She hung her head and sobbed.

  Suddenly, Rand was holding her. She pressed her face into her hands, trembling violently. In her grief, she smelled him, that curious heady smell that she’d almost forgotten about.

  It was a relief to share the burden with someone else, but it felt wrong to be comforted by him in such a way. She looked up, tear-stricken, and saw his look of compassion.

  “You haven’t told anyone else, have you?” he asked. “You haven’t had the time.”

  “Shouldn’t I tell Mother?”

  His lips pressed firmly. “No, I don’t think so. It would only cause unneeded pain. You need to tell someone in the government, but who can be trusted with such a secret? I mean, the prime minister is already over there! Lord Welles? I think not. There’s no zephyr to deliver such a message.” He put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed. “I know others in the admiralty. My father was one of them. I think Admiral Hatch could get a message to your father quickly. Surely we must warn him.”

  “If you think Admiral Hatch could get a warning to him in time?”

  “I’ll write the message immediately. We can send a zephyr as soon as we land.”

  “There’s also Sir Jordan,” Cettie said, her worries starting to ebb now that she was taking action.

  “He’s only a vice admiral,” Rand said, shaking his head. “I think Admiral Hatch is a better choice.” He started rubbing her shoulders. “He can arrange to have someone cross the mirror gate straightaway. You did right to tell me, Cettie. I’m proud of you.”

  It did feel better. But there was still a part of her, a nagging part, that wondered if she should have confided in him.

  The emperor wishes his daughter to marry the Prince of Kingfountain so he can bar her from the line of succession. I have interviewed him many times to try to understand his hostility toward his own flesh. I’ve read reports from investigations that were undertaken by members of the privy council to corroborate his notion that Sera is illegitimate. No evidence exists for this claim, yet the emperor is convinced, beyond reason, that it is true.

  Sera has told me that it has something to do with a visit Lady Corinne made to their family manor many years ago. That visit altered the relationship between father and daughter and led to their bitter rivalry. What was said in that meeting remains a mystery. But what was felt after it has become a troubling link in a tangled chain of events.

  —Brant Fitzroy, Prime Minister

  SERA

  CHAPTER FOUR

  GLASS BEACH

  It was a fair trade, a term of the deal Sera and Prince Trevon had negotiated after four long years of war between the empires. He would spend three months of each year visiting the empire of Comoros; she would spend an equal amount of time visiting the court of Kingfountain. The armistice had been signed eighteen months ago and would expire in another six. Many men and women from the empire had come to visit or live in Kingfountain since the armistice, most of them intent on exploring business interests. There was a little bubble of hope spreading that peace might prevail. But what would the conclusion actually bring? War? Marriage?

  Maybe both.

  What Sera hadn’t expected, what had surprised her, was how much she enjoyed the freedom of Trevon’s court. Had that been his plan all along? Take, for example, the style of dress worn in his court. There were no tight bodices, no corsets that clenched at her stomach and ribs. No gloves or hats or hoods. There were no rules about being alone with young men, none of the restrictive protocols that had always made her chafe.

  She was back in Kingfountain again, in the same suite she had stayed in on her other visits. While her maid, Becka Monstrum, unpacked her trunks, Sera doffed the constrictive gown she’d traveled in and changed into one of her Occitanian ones. The silk-and-velvet gown felt deliciously comfortable in comparison.

  “That’s one of my favorites,” Becka said as Sera admired it in the full-length mirror.

  “It’s one of Trevon’s favorites too,” Sera said, meeting her maid’s gaze. In the year and a half Becka had been in her service, the girl had blossomed. Sera had inherited her from Lady Corinne’s service, where the young girl had witnessed the murder of a young advocate, an old schoolmate of Sera’s. It was a secret known only by the two of them, the prime minister, and the lead investigator he had chosen. They were now bound together by fate, and Sera was determined to see Becka’s old mistress brought to justice for her crimes and intrigues.

  Sera put on a pair of earrings Trevon had given her during his last visit. Each one dangled a bead of smooth glass from the famous beach in Brythonica. She was tired from the voyage, because the two worlds operated on opposite schedules—it was always day in Kingfountain when it was night in Comoros.

  On this visit, Lord Fitzroy had come along to begin preliminary peace overtures to extend the armistice into something longer lasting. There would be several long, drawn-out meetings, many of which would be dreadfully boring, but Sera wanted the mission to be a success.

  “He can’t help but like it,” Becka said, before returning to her work. “But I think h
e likes the woman wearing it even better.”

  “Unload the chests and trunks later,” Sera said, turning around so abruptly the skirts swished around her legs. Becka’s words had given a rush of pleasure, and she didn’t want the younger girl to see the blush on her cheeks. “Why don’t you see what the prince’s sisters have been up to? It would be helpful to learn something before dinner with his family this evening.” Always so conscientious and hardworking, Becka was also Sera’s eyes and ears with the palace staff.

  The younger girl nodded and promptly obeyed, leaving Sera by herself. Sera looked at herself in the mirror once again. She’d made herself as pretty as possible and was anxious to see Trevon again. Three months had passed since they’d last parted, each longer than the last, and she often thought of the look of regret he’d given her as he took his leave. When she’d asked him what was wrong, he’d said that he didn’t mind leaving the smoky City, but he did mind leaving her in it. Normally, he awaited her on the palace steps, but he hadn’t done so today. No doubt some pressing business of state had called him away. He had taken on more and more responsibilities from his father in expectation of ruling someday. She was eager to see him again and felt a giddy, fluttering sensation in her stomach.

  A solemn click sounded, and the wainscoting on one of the walls opened on quiet hinges. Trevon appeared in her room a moment later. His decorative tunic and jacket befit his noble heritage. His hair was a little longer than she remembered, and she noticed the now-familiar scar on his chin. Just looking at it made her want to kiss it, a thought that made her immediately flush.

  “You came in through the spy door like an Espion?” Sera asked, tilting her head.

  “I had to,” he answered gravely, although his eyes were twinkling. “I’ve come to abduct you.”

  She sauntered away from the mirror, keeping her head at an angle. “This sounds serious.”

  “It is very serious, Your Highness,” he said with a playful tone. “In abductions, there is a long tradition involved. Secret plans. A bounty.” He met her in the middle of the room and then took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “As long as we are back in time for dinner with my family, I think we can avoid causing unnecessary consternation. If you are game?” He brought his other arm from behind his back, and she saw the brass cylinder he held.