by Sharon Shinn
“Merely investigating possibilities,” he said.
She frowned at the vague answer. “Planning for the revolution, I suppose.”
He smiled. “It is not certain there will be a revolution.”
She spoke slowly, trying to work it out. “I suppose there must be some nobles here in the province of Sammerly who dislike Harold and would be willing to join an uprising if there was one.”
“That is not how they talk,” he said. “They express concern that the king’s attention is divided—that he puts so much effort into placating the western provinces that he does not have the attention to devote to concerns of the wider realm. In particular, they wish he would spend more time developing foreign trade with countries like Ferrenlea. Some are even willing to let the western provinces secede if it means the king would focus on building a stronger eastern kingdom.”
From behind us came the sound of women talking together as they approached the perfumier’s shop. Elyssa made a slight gesture, and she and Marco began strolling forward at a slow pace. Her echoes fell in place behind them.
“It makes no sense to me,” she said. “Why wouldn’t the king let the western provinces break away and rule themselves?”
Marco shrugged. “Many people believe a larger kingdom is a stronger kingdom—it brings in more tax dollars, which enables the crown to maintain a larger army and better roads. An enemy nation would think twice about invading a country the size of the Seven Jewels, but it might be willing to attack a country only half that big. And there are plenty of nobles in the western provinces who are against secession. Thus the king has allies as well as enemies in Alberta and elsewhere.”
“And he thinks to buy more allies with strategic marriages,” Elyssa said. They had come to a halt before a shop that advertised potions to ease any ailment. The scents drifting out through this doorway were even more varied and complex than the ones at the perfumier, but generally sharper and more bitter. If the draughts tasted the way they smelled, I thought it would be difficult to convince people to ingest them.
“The governor of Orenza—Lord Garvin—he would certainly give up plans for rebellion if he saw his daughter wed to Cormac,” Marco agreed. He slanted her a sideways look. “I am not so sure about your father.”
“No, my father likes to keep all his options open,” she agreed, and her voice had an edge to it. “He would have me marry Jordan and enjoy all the advantages of that union while still plotting an uprising to bring down the palace and everyone inside it.”
“Except you, of course.”
Elyssa made a sound of uncertainty. “I don’t think my father would worry overmuch about my safety if he thought he had a chance to overthrow the crown.”
There was a short silence. I saw Marco’s hands bunch into fists before he carefully relaxed them. “Well, I would worry about your safety,” he said quietly. “It is intolerable enough to think of you married off to that insipid man, but to imagine you in danger on top of it? Unendurable.”
My lips curved into a smile, mimicking Elyssa’s genuine expression of pleasure. “Then I shall count on you to rescue me if the palace ever falls under siege,” she said.
“I will make sure you are safe before any attack occurs.”
We were so far from the others in our party that Elyssa seemed to feel it was safe to face Marco directly. “Do you really expect such an attack?” she asked bluntly.
“Like your father, I believe any option is worth considering,” he answered. His voice held a burr of anger when he added, “You look shocked. Is it possible the prince has won you over? Or are you just so enamored of the idea of marrying into royalty that you would sacrifice the dreams of all your countrymen to attain your own high position?”
“Don’t you dare accuse me of selfishness,” she shot back. “I have tried to play the part my father has pushed me into. If I am shocked, it is because I am not used to seeing the people around me murdered. I admit I have an unkind heart, but not, so far, a bloody one.”
He took her arm in a hard hold; I felt a ghostly grip against my own skin. “And if I did warn you that an assault was coming?” he demanded. “Would you warn the king or your princely lover?”
She shook off his hand, glancing around to see if anyone had witnessed this exchange. “He is not my lover,” she hissed. “And I would tell no one. You insult me on both counts.”
“It is just that you seem so at ease with royalty,” he muttered. “It is hard to know what you truly want.”
“What I truly want?” she said, and now her voice was mocking. “Are my only two choices violent rebellion or a loveless marriage? How could any woman pick between such attractive alternatives?”
“That’s no answer.”
She shrugged, glanced over her shoulder, and then turned to head back toward the center of the shopping district, where most of the other royal visitors were already congregating.
“What I want is some chance at a life that is not completely miserable, whether that is in Camarria as Jordan’s wife or in Alberta with the rebel factions,” she told him. “I do not plan to betray my father and his allies. But you cannot blame me if, no matter where I end up, I seek a little happiness. You can call that selfish, if you like. But you had better remember that if you expect my cooperation.”
They walked on a few steps in silence. I guessed Marco was trying to parse the meaning behind her words. Had she just threatened to expose the rebel network if Marco or her father didn’t take her wishes into account? My own hunch was that Elyssa couldn’t have verbalized exactly what she wanted, whether it was the pomp of being a princess or the excitement of being a rebel. All she knew was that she was bitter, manipulated, and wretched now, and she wanted to be free and joyful.
The irony wasn’t lost on me. Maybe her cruelty could, in some measure, be forgiven because it sprang from such a hopeless place. Or maybe she would have been cruel no matter what.
“You have to leave me now,” Elyssa said in a completely changed voice. “People will see us together.”
“All right—but—we have more to discuss,” Marco said. “Can we meet again? Where and when?”
“It isn’t safe.”
“I suppose you don’t want me walking up to the palace doors in search of you.”
That made her laugh; they both knew he wouldn’t take that risk, but she liked the idea that he might be so impetuous. “Tell me a place I would be likely to find you on some fine morning,” she suggested. “If I happened to go out walking.”
He thought a moment. “There is a botanical garden in the heart of the city. I
will endeavor to be there most mornings in case you want to look for me.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
And with that bare, insufficient promise, she stepped away from him, decisively and without once looking back. I turned my head a few inches, just enough to see him staring after her, his eyes narrowed, his expression unsure. He desired her and he distrusted her, I thought. And she desired him but despaired of him. Both combinations seemed dangerously volatile.
We had not gone twenty paces when Lady Cali fell in step beside us. “And who was that attractive rogue?” she asked in a friendly way. She either didn’t realize that Elyssa didn’t like her, or she was too self-confident to care.
Elyssa offered a careless laugh. “Someone my father sent to check on my well-being,” she said. “Do you think he’s handsome? I believe he’s some low noble’s bastard son, so I’ve never paid him much attention, but I’d be happy to introduce you if you think you could weather the scandal.”
Cali smiled. “Well, some scandals are worth the trouble,” she said. “He might be one of them.”
“I’ll let him know you think so,” Elyssa said. “So tell me! Did you buy anything? I never even stepped inside a store.”
Cali happily displayed a few ribbons and gloves, and talk turned to shopping and the prospect of lunch. But I was interested to note that Elyssa wasn’t entirely able to disc
ipline her heart. Once the Banchura triplets had joined them to show off their own purchases, Elyssa glanced behind her, to the spot where she had left Marco standing alone. He was no longer anywhere to be seen. Elyssa did not allow herself to sigh. She merely turned back to admire a pair of embroidered slippers that Lady Letitia was showing off as if nothing else in the world was more important.
The evening was full of tension and excitement as the king and queen joined the visitors for dinner and held an audience afterward, where they spoke a few words with all of the guests who were newcomers to the palace. More frequent visitors—like Elyssa, Dezmen, and the women from Banchura—joined the others in the great, drafty throne room, but didn’t take a turn being presented to the royal couple.
We hadn’t been standing there very long when the triplets descended in a swirl of blue silk and endless echoes. “Elyssa!” one of them exclaimed. “I only just now noticed, but you’re missing an echo! What happened?”
Elyssa shrugged. “The silly thing tripped and fell over a shoe that had been left in the middle of the room. Twisted her ankle and now she can’t walk.”
“She fell? But you didn’t?” one of the other triplets said. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“No, I’ve seen my echoes fall when I was the one who tripped over something, even when there was absolutely nothing in their way,” the third sister said. “But never the other way around.”
“Perhaps my shadows are just clumsier than yours,” Elyssa said. “I did speak sharply to my maid about allowing clutter in the room.”
“But the poor thing! She must be miserable to be left alone! I think my echoes would be so desperate to be with me, they would come after me even if they had to crawl on their hands and knees.”
“And poor you,” one of the other women added. “Don’t you miss her at your back? Do you find yourself turning around a hundred times a day, looking for her, just aching from her absence?”
There was a touch of derision in Elyssa’s voice. “Aren’t you the most romantic girls! Swooning over the magical bond between echoes and originals.”
The third sister was frowning. “You mean you don’t feel that way?”
“It’s actually been something of a relief not to have three of them dragging behind me,” Elyssa said. “I feel twenty pounds lighter.”
All three of the triplets stared at her, struck dumb. Elyssa burst into laughter. “Of all the things I’ve ever said and done, that’s the one that’s shocked you?” she demanded.
Before any of them could answer, Deryk glided up to join the group, standing so close to Elyssa that I could feel his echo’s breath against my cheek when he turned his head my way. “Elyssa’s saying shocking things?” he said. “Someone fill me in.”
Their conversation went on, somewhat strained, but I had stopped listening. I had spotted Prince Jordan and I found myself far more interested in him than anyone else in the room. He had been standing in casual conversation with Dezmen and Darrily, but I saw his eyes track someone across the room. In a moment, he excused himself and went to speak to the dark-haired woman who had caught his attention.
She was standing near the group that needed no introduction to the king and queen, but apart from the others, as if she had no friends in their midst. She was finely dressed and clearly noble, but there was something vulnerable about her wan complexion and tense shoulders. She looked like she wished she could be anywhere else in the entire kingdom. I couldn’t remember Elyssa speaking to her during the past few days, and she had not been introduced to anyone in my hearing, so I wondered who she was and why nobody liked her.
Well, Jordan seemed to like her or, at any rate, to feel sympathy for her. He approached her with an easy smile and said something that made her face light with gratitude. She made a small, graceful gesture, and the two echoes behind her repeated the motion. I thought they looked as sad as she did.
But Jordan kept up the conversation, perhaps complimenting the color of her dress, or telling her an amusing story, trying to cajole her into a smile. He wasn’t successful, but it seemed—from my view halfway across the room—that he made her feel a little less desolate.
Elyssa had taken a few steps back to begin whispering with Deryk, but I was still standing near enough to the Banchura women to overhear their conversation. One of them demanded, “Who’s Jordan talking to?”
“I can’t tell,” said another one. “Is that— Goddess have mercy on my soul, it’s Vivienne!”
“I didn’t realize she was here! She must have arrived this afternoon.”
“The poor, brave dear. And Cormac entirely ignoring her, of course.”
“It’s not his fault! If his father is going to make him marry Marguerite—”
“That doesn’t mean he should act as if Vivienne is invisible.”
“Well, I imagine this is hard on him, too. He’s been in love with her for ages.”
“But look at Jordan. Just smiling and talking and trying to ease her through the evening. Exactly what I’d expect of him.”
One of the triplets produced an inelegant snort. “Since he doesn’t want to talk to his own affianced bride.”
Another one sighed. “Sweet goddess, if he really does marry Elyssa, I swear I will never come back to Camarria.”
“Shhh! She’s right behind you.”
“Well, it’s true. I don’t care if she hears me.”
“I’m going to go talk to Vivienne. She needs to know she still has friends among the high nobility.”
“Yes, let’s go talk with Vivienne.” And just like that, the whole crowd of them swirled off to the other side of the room.
So that was the young woman who had been spurned so Harold could sew up an alliance between Orenza and the crown. I agreed with the triplets—it was brave of her to be here.
And I was moved, once again, by Jordan’s casual kindness. I didn’t dislike Cormac, what little I’d seen of him, but I thought Vivienne would really have reason to mourn if Jordan was the prince she had lost to the king’s machinations. He was the finest man in the room tonight—perhaps in the entire kingdom.
What a terrible fate if he were forced to marry someone as awful as Elyssa.
The entertainment the prince had put together on the following day involved another caravan of carriages making slow progress around the city and stopping at several historic sites. The last place we visited was a temple that Cormac informed us was the oldest one in Camarria. To reach it, we had to exit from the carriages and cross a slim wooden bridge that spanned a brook that completely encircled the land where the temple stood. In fact, I realized, there were three bridges, painted three different colors—red, white, and black.
“Naturally, the colors correspond to the different manifestations of the goddess,” Cormac was explaining to Lady Cali when I happened to be close enough to overhear. “Red for joy, white for mercy, black for justice. You see how the temple is made up of three circular buildings all joined together in the center? Each of the towers also represents one of the goddess’s incarnations, and there is a different door for each one. You choose your door by your state of mind on any particular day.”
“Oh, let’s go in the entrance for joy,” Cali said.
“Indeed, let’s do that,” purred Elyssa. “Since we’re all so happy.”
I couldn’t help wondering which door she would have selected if she’d been left to her own devices. She was rarely joyful, she was never merciful, and I had never seen any indication that she believed in justice. Then again, I had never seen much indication that she believed in the goddess, either.
Nonetheless, she followed Cormac and Cali and all their echoes through the red door and into the cool interior, which was lit only by a couple dozen votive candles and what sunlight could make it through a few narrow windows. I couldn’t say that I immediately felt joyful, but I did find a sense of peace stealing over me as we made our way slowly around the quiet space. At the front of the room was a low dais holding a si
ngle statue—the goddess with her arms lifted toward the high ceiling—and it was before this statue that all the candles had been placed. Facing the dais and filling the central portion of the room were a series of wooden pews, though there were hardly any people sitting in them on this warm afternoon. I spotted two women dressed in formal robes moving from pew to pew as if offering counsel to the people who were visiting. Priestesses, perhaps? They looked like they belonged here, at any rate.
“Is this where you come on Counting Day?” Cali asked, speaking in a low voice suitable for the venue.
“Ever since I was born,” said Cormac. “They say that, since this is the biggest temple in the kingdom, more nobles can be found here on Counting Day than anywhere else.”
I searched my memory, but I had no conscious recollection of what Counting Day might be. That left me slightly uneasy; I had the sense it was important. Fortunately, Deryk chose that moment to sidle up beside Elyssa, and the two of them dropped back to enjoy their own conversation.
“Counting Day,” she repeated, her voice full of contempt. “When all the nobles in the kingdom have to show up at a temple because otherwise the goddess will take away their echoes. It’s such a stupid superstition.”
“Have you ever been brave enough not to do it, though?” Deryk asked. “I admit, no one I know has been willing to risk it. So I have no idea if it’s even true.”
“Oh, no. I go every year—but only because my father makes me. He can’t bear the idea that we’d lose all our prestige if the goddess took away our echoes. Otherwise, I’d be happy to stay home.”
“But what if it is true?” Deryk argued. “And your echoes just vanished? You’d be sorry then.”
“Not as much as you’d think,” she muttered.
“I don’t believe you,” he said. He gestured in my direction. “It has to bother you to be missing just one of them right now.”
She lifted her eyes to give him a long, level look. “Not as much as you’d think,” she repeated.
He raised his eyebrows and I thought even he might be taken aback at her callousness. But he smoothly moved on. “Well, you know who is in agony to be missing an echo?” he said in his usual gossipy tone.
