by Jeff Wheeler
“None whatsoever,” she answered, knowing it would disappoint him. “Whatever happened, it was done in secret. I spoke to the Aldermaston of Muirwood personally not long ago, and he consulted the records of his predecessors. There are many records to search, you see. Even the Minister of Thought had not heard of Lady Sinia’s visit.”
Trevon pursed his lips, but he nodded in understanding. “You would tell me, though, if you discovered something? Even if the news was bad? I wish I could search the records myself, although I imagine that particular ministry wouldn’t permit access to a nonbeliever.”
She squeezed his hand. “Of course I would tell you. And no, I don’t think the Ministry of Thought would divulge its secrets to you.” She noticed a cave in the wall of the cliff. The outgoing tide had exposed it. “What is that?” she asked, pointing.
Trevon looked and shrugged. “A sea cave. The waters carve them out of the rocks. They don’t go anywhere.”
Perhaps not, but there was something special about this sea cave. Something powerful. She’d walked on the beach before, but she’d never noticed this feeling before. “Can we look?”
“They are pretty dark, but if it pleases you.” He tugged her after him, and they approached it together. As they drew near, a guard wearing the badge of the Raven emerged from inside. Trevon looked taken aback.
“Can I help you, Prince Trevon?” the guard asked, his eyes shifting warily to Sera.
“What were you doing in that cave?” Trevon asked.
“I patrol the beach, my lord,” he answered.
“We were just going to go inside a moment,” Trevon said.
The guard frowned, and Sera could see the indecision in his eyes. “The tide is about to return. I would advise against it.”
His reticence intrigued Sera even more. She waited to see how Trevon would handle the situation.
“We won’t be long.”
The guard looked uncomfortable, as if he wanted to forbid them but dared not. He grimaced and then stepped aside. “Very well, Your Grace.”
After they passed the guard, Trevon cast a wary glance back at him and then escorted Sera to the opening.
“That was odd,” Sera said in a low voice.
“I know. I’ll have to ask the duchess about it.” Trevon had to stoop to enter. Sera did not, which made her inwardly groan. Her lack of height ever seemed to undermine her authority. The cave was dark, even more so since their eyes were so accustomed to the sunny beach outside. They stumbled a bit, and the wet sand clung to her bare feet. The misshapen, jagged walls put her in mind of the Fear Liath’s lair, which Cettie had described to her at length, but she sensed the protective presence of Leerings. Could it be? A giddiness swelled inside her at the thought. Yes, the feeling was unmistakable, but what were Leerings doing here?
“I imagine this cave fills up with seawater,” Trevon said, looking around. They still held hands to steady each other.
Sera touched one of the walls emanating power, and her fingers sank into a spongy layer of moss. She scraped some of it away, trying to feel for the carved face that must be hidden beneath it, and she activated the Leering with her mind.
Immediately, the cave began to glow.
“What on earth?” Trevon gasped in surprise as several Leerings illuminated their surroundings.
Sera felt a giddy rush of power in her heart. She had activated the Leerings without any trouble at all. All of the practice she’d done over the past year and a half had made her adept with them.
“There are Leerings,” Sera said, looking at him, “hidden beneath the moss.”
“Did you know they were here?” Trevon asked, reaching out and touching the one they stood near.
“I think I sensed them from the beach,” she answered. “It was very faint. Leerings have a purpose. They were put here to do something, and I don’t think it was simply to illuminate a cave.” She gazed up at the craggy ceiling, the broken edges where rock had been shattered loose by the relentless pounding of waves.
“These have been here for a long time,” Trevon said. “The moss is thick.” He broke a clump of it off and smelled it. “It’s sweet.” He offered it to her, and she sniffed at it too. It did indeed have a pleasant aroma.
“The guards are protecting this cave,” Sera said, looking back at the opening. “The question is from what?”
“Or whom,” Trevon answered. “He was very reluctant to let us in.”
“I know,” Sera said. She touched the Leering they’d partially cleaned again, wishing she understood its purpose. It was doing something, but she felt it would be wrong to try to invoke it. “If Cettie were here, she could tell us. She has a gift for controlling them. But why are there Leerings here? And why keep them hidden? Is this not evidence that our worlds are more connected than we understand?” They had discussed, on many occasions, the similarities between their respective faiths. The Knowing was interpreted differently in both worlds—it even empowered people in different ways—but it was in essence the same.
“It does seem so,” Trevon answered. “I have an uneasy feeling.”
“So do I,” Sera said. “You still have the Tay al-Ard?”
“In my pocket,” he answered. “Let’s go back to the palace. There are some questions I would like answered.” He fished it out.
Sera stepped close to him, putting one hand over his heart. Her other slid around his back. Before the tug of magic twisted them both away, she stared at the glowing moss and wondered at the mystery of the cave.
Why would Kingfountain want to keep such a secret? What were they hiding?
CHAPTER SIX
FATE’S HARBINGER
Not only was Becka deft with braiding and arranging Sera’s hair, but her quiet ways made her a natural gatherer of gossip and current news. It was almost time for the state dinner with Trevon’s parents and siblings, and Sera wanted to look like she belonged at court. She’d changed to a different gown—a design from Marq that she hoped would appeal to the queen.
“So all the servants are talking about a wedding, even though I haven’t said yes?” Sera asked, looking over her shoulder at the young woman, who had just added a lace collar to Sera’s outfit. The lace chafed against Sera’s sunburned skin, making her wince.
“I’m sorry, Sera,” Becka apologized, noticing her reaction.
“I spent too much time in the sun. It’s my fault, not yours.”
“The wedding is the only thing they’re talking about,” Becka said, squinting and leaning in close to fix the hook and eye of the collar. “I even saw an enormous cake being prepared in the kitchen. The prince’s sisters both pressed me, asking if I thought you’d like living here. They’re anxious to have another sister. Even Trevon’s brother said he wouldn’t mind, so long as it was you.”
“Which one?” Sera demanded, feeling a flush of gladness that she’d managed to win some of them over. Trevon’s parents were a different story. The queen was especially aloof, no matter how Sera tried to please her.
“Prince Kasdan,” Becka answered.
“Really? He’s the next oldest. He’s hardly said more than hello to me.”
“Well, he’s not as talkative as Prince Lucas, for certain,” Becka said, smiling. “But I overheard him talking to his sisters, and that’s what he said.”
The collar was done, and Sera planted her palms on the dressing table in front of her and let out a pent-up breath. “They’re not making it easy for me to say no.” Not that she wanted to.
“No, I suppose not. But not all the talk is pleasant, Sera. You should know the bad as well as the good.” Becka’s look darkened. “I heard an undercook complain about the wedding. She fussed about going to so much effort for a heretic.”
Sera frowned at that comment. “She’d likely think it a wedding of two heretics had she seen the prince talking with the Aldermaston of Muirwood Abbey.” The word “heretic” still chafed. At least Trevon’s study of her world had helped him realize their differences were no
t as keen as he’d once thought. He was coming around to the idea that the Fountain and the Mysteries were two different aspects of the Knowing. The meeting with the Aldermaston had broadened Trevon’s views. Made him less distrustful. She considered it progress.
“I’ve also heard,” Becka went on cautiously, her nose wrinkling, “that there have been some protests about it. Some of the people feel that the prince shouldn’t marry someone who hasn’t had the water rite. There are even whispers you’re a water sprite come to deceive them.”
“A water sprite?” Sera said with a little laugh. “Something tells me they don’t get burned by the sun.” She breathed out her nose, feeling the conflict of the decision she faced. “Why is Lord Fitzroy delayed?”
“That I do not know,” Becka answered. “I did see Adam Creigh, though. I won’t give him Cettie’s parcel until later, of course, but he was pleasant and asked how you were doing. He’d like to come by the palace now that you’ve returned.”
“I would like that very much.”
They had nearly finished their preparations when a knock landed on the door. Becka answered it, and invited Lord Fitzroy to enter. He wore the fashions of Comoros, which made him stand out in the society of Kingfountain. He dressed in the same understated manner everywhere, and often looked more like a butler than the second-most powerful man in Comoros.
“I was hoping we could speak before dinner, Lord Fitzroy,” Sera said.
“I’m sorry I could not come sooner, Sera. There is a lot of commotion at court right now. I’m assuming the prince has already proposed?”
“He did earlier today,” Sera answered. “Which is why I wanted to speak to you.”
Fitzroy’s short tenure as prime minister had put more gray in his hair. It was probably her father’s fault. They were constantly at odds, but the contentious relationship hadn’t stopped Fitzroy.
“I must confess I’m not surprised that he did,” Fitzroy said. “Only the urgency troubles me. There were preparations underway before we even arrived. I don’t like the haste.”
“I’m glad I’m not the only one who feels that way. Have you spoken to the king or queen about it? How do they feel?”
“The king is very pragmatic. He sees it as an obvious solution to forming a more permanent peace accord. General Montpensier, as you can imagine, thinks you are evil incarnate. I’ve heard he’s been whispering in the queen’s ear, trying to persuade her that you aren’t a suitable match for her son. Maybe one of the younger ones, but not the crown prince.”
“Has he now?” Sera said with indignation.
“That can hardly surprise you. If the war with our empire ends permanently, his role as general will mean much less. Some believe he has too much power already, that no one man should command the army and the Espion. Your marriage would benefit the royal family by reining him in. Still, the queen may be against it.”
“Then I suppose this dinner is another opportunity to win her over,” Sera said, frowning.
“I wouldn’t fix your hopes on that,” Fitzroy said, scratching his ear. “I’ve seen enough marriages in my day. If you do wed Trevon, seek to please your husband more than his parents. Some people will never be content because they’ve determined not to be. The queen, I fear, is one of them.”
“Sage advice, Lord Fitzroy. So what would you advise me to do? This whole affair does seem rather rushed. Should I marry Prince Trevon so that we may establish peace between our peoples? I don’t want to abdicate the possibility of becoming empress. In fact, Trevon wonders if we might be able to jointly rule both.”
The suggestion seemed to take him by surprise. He thought a moment before responding. “Your people love you, Sera. There is no denying it. But there would be many obstacles against this path. It would require a great deal of mutual goodwill that doesn’t presently exist. While I know Richard—your father—wants you barred from inheriting at all, the people would revolt if he made it a condition of your marriage. He also wishes to marry Lady Corinne, and this wedding would give him a good pretext to fulfill his desires.”
Sera couldn’t help but give him an angry look. “Haven’t you told him about her machinations?”
“Not yet,” Fitzroy said, giving her a warning look. “I’ve been assembling the evidence discreetly. I even have a spy in her household, one we recruited to the cause.”
“Who?” Sera pressed. She’d been almost fond of Lady Corinne’s butler, but surely it couldn’t be someone so close to her.
He shook his head. “It’s best if I don’t tell you. You have already provided the most important witness,” he said, flashing a smile at Becka, who flushed at his praise. “I have a writ prepared for Lady Corinne’s arrest that only needs to be signed. No doubt she has an army of loyal advocates who will try to confound the case.”
“Then you must confound them,” Sera said, feeling frustrated that her nemesis was still exercising power in the realm.
“I am very methodical, I assure you,” Fitzroy said. “She is being watched closely, especially when she visits Lockhaven. She has beguiled your father, but the infatuation is clearly one-sided.”
Sera nodded curtly. “So what do you advise, Lord Fitzroy? Should I accept Trevon’s proposal?”
“It’s your decision, of course.”
“Yes, but I want your advice. I depend on it. Trevon raised some articulate points. And I have no doubt about his affections.” Her memories from the beach brought a flush of pleasure and warmth. “Part of me is not ready to risk my ambitions for our world. I wonder why we cannot wait until the end of the treaty to finalize our agreement. But my heart tells me that waiting will only make it more . . . difficult if I decide not to marry him. I do care for Trevon. Deeply. There is much to admire in such a man.”
“There is also much to admire in such a woman,” Fitzroy said, nodding to her. “I’ve seen you together in our world and this one. You make a striking couple. He’s intelligent, deliberate, and honorable. As long as our people could call on you, should the need arise, I do not think they would violently oppose the match. That must be a term or precondition.”
“I agree,” Sera said, wringing her hands. “Shall we away to dinner, then?”
“Of course.”
Sera had been to the dining hall in Kingfountain so many times it felt as familiar as any such room in Lockhaven. Indeed, she preferred the hall’s intimate arrangement of round tables to the long, formal tables that decorated the manors back home.
The king and queen sat at the head table, and the queen’s only comment to Sera was that she looked a bit weather-beaten, followed by a sniff of disdain. Trevon flashed his mother an angry look and then offered an apologetic one to Sera as he escorted her to their table. Luckily, General Montpensier and his alluring wife, their usual dinner companions, were seated elsewhere this eve. Prince Trevon had arranged for Lord Fitzroy to be at their table as well as his two younger sisters, Princess Lyneah and Princess Elaine.
The dinner conversation was pleasant, but they all felt the underlying tension. The sisters kept exchanging knowing looks and bursting into giggles. Trevon tried to silence them, but Sera found their antics amusing. Lord Fitzroy was a good dinner companion and engaged the young princesses in a discussion about the weather and some of the Mysteries of Wind.
At one point, Trevon reached for Sera’s hand under the tablecloth and squeezed it. She squeezed back, savoring the feel of his warm, rough hand. Is this what it would be like if they were wed? His thumb was caressing her hand when a man approached their table. He wore the military uniform of the admiralty of Comoros, and his hat was tucked under the crook of his arm. He came up behind Lord Fitzroy, who was in the midst of a story about Cettie, and coughed into his fist to gain the prime minister’s attention.
Fitzroy turned at once, and seemed startled to see the man. “Admiral Hatch. This is a surprise.”
“I crossed the mirror gate several hours ago,” he said and withdrew a sealed letter. “I’ve read the contents of
this letter first, as it was addressed to me, but I thought it best to come straightaway.”
Fitzroy looked worried. “Why didn’t this come through the ambassador?”
“It will,” Admiral Hatch said. “My understanding is the privy council is meeting with the emperor this evening, and the ambassador will receive a dispatch in the morning. I came to you as quickly as I could.”
Lord Fitzroy, still looking concerned, quickly examined the letter after the admiral excused himself. Trevon squeezed Sera’s hand, and when she glanced at him, she saw he, too, looked troubled by the admiral’s sudden arrival. Did this have something to do with their possible marriage?
“What do you think it is?” he whispered in her ear.
“I don’t know,” she answered, studying Fitzroy’s face as he scanned the missive. A subtle smile crossed his face, but he pursed his lips to conceal it. Good news, then. He folded the letter and stuffed it into his jacket pocket.
“What was that about?” Sera asked in an undertone.
“If we can speak privately, I will tell you.”
Sera pushed away from the table, offering Trevon an apologetic smile, and rose and followed Fitzroy to one of the curtained alcoves embedded in the wall. Her prince was burning with curiosity by the look he gave her as they left. Some of the other guests noticed their abrupt departure, but the conversation and tinkling of silverware on plates showed that most had not. When they reached the shallow alcove, Fitzroy gestured for her to enter first. She knew why without asking—with his back to the diners, no one could read his lips.
“Well?” Sera asked, feeling her insides twist with eagerness.
“Cettie had another vision,” Fitzroy said, his smile returning. “She didn’t know how to get the news to me quickly, so she entrusted the message to Rand Patchett, who knows Admiral Hatch. He came straightaway.”
“Rand? That’s odd.” Things were quite awkward between them, last she’d heard. That tended to happen when a woman rejected a man.
