The Queen of Mages

by Benjamin Clayborne

The weeks passed by in a rush of rides, picnics, dinners, dances, and courting. Katin lost track of how many excursions they’d made, mounted on feisty mares to visit a serene lakeside, or trundling along in a coach to meet the many barons and merchants of Hedenham County. Amira never seemed to tire of it. At night, in her chambers, she’d discreetly practice with her power. Her control over the thing seemed to grow by the day. It had become routine, even to Katin, and she barely worried any more whether they’d be discovered.

  Occasionally Katin got into a panic that Edon might come after them, but all the letters from Besiana were run-of-the-mill gossip, or missives about trade and commerce and family business. The terrors they’d gone through in Callaston dwindled into the past, and Katin grew to cherish the safety and serenity of Hedenham.

  Dardan certainly kept busy. His father constantly dispatched him to settle disputes, oversee road repairs, meet with barons, and so on. Two or three days at a time he’d be gone, and when he returned he spent every waking moment with Amira. Sometimes she went with him on his trips, to meet this or that noble or merchant, which meant Katin went too. The only time Amira declined was when Dardan went to visit Baron Parvis Stanton; the women had heard terrible stories about him and wanted no part of visiting the man. Katin grew nauseated simply upon hearing his name.

  Amira’s travels with Dardan meant that Liam spent much time near Katin, and he spent most of it in pursuit of her. She had hoped he would take her hostility to heart, after that conversation in Potterton, but it seemed to only increase his resolve. What lengths a man would go to, to bed a woman! Surely there must be easier targets in Hedenham.

  Katin did not trust him precisely because he was so handsome and charming. But he strove daily to prove his worth. When the footmen and maids and stablehands walked into town on their day off to visit the shops or some passing caravan, Liam would only go if Katin was going as well. If she’d rather tarry in the gardens, or just sit in the servants’ hall and talk, Liam was always game. When she told him—only on occasion—to leave her alone, he did so without argument. When they spoke, his tongue was always sharp, and he was always ready with a jest, but he never turned them against her.

  Amira found the whole thing endlessly amusing. One afternoon they took tea out in the garden, with the menfolk nowhere in sight. “You really are making things hard on the man, aren’t you,” Amira observed.

  “I see no reason to do otherwise.”

  “Is he really so despicable? I know you are reluctant to engage in… certain activities,” Amira said, for once keeping her words cautious. She actually even glanced around to ensure no one was near.

  “I wouldn’t call him despicable, m’lady. He’s so blasted charming, and handsome, and he’s never even tried to put a hand on me. I’m onto his game.”

  “Dear me, I can’t tell if you disapprove of him or not,” Amira laughed.

  Katin just barely stopped herself from telling Amira to stuff it. Instead she crossed her arms and pointedly asked if m’lady needed anything. Amira merely smiled and continued sipping at her tea.

  ———

  On a bright, cloudless morning, two months into their stay in Hedenham, Amira declared that they would go into town to visit a trade caravan that had stopped there. The summer heat had finally broken, and there had been a spell of cool days and rainstorms for the past week.

  Dardan and Liam were off with Asmus, attending to some matter. Supposedly they were due back that afternoon. It would have just been Amira and Katin and a pair of Tarian house guards, if not for Calysane Tarian, Dardan’s sister.

  The girl was Chaos incarnate. The Tarians’ middle child, she was fifteen, only months from her coming of age. She resented having to wait to attend to the dinner parties and dances that she considered her birthright. She would interrupt and correct anyone—even her father—who still called her “Calys,” which she dismissed as a childish diminutive. She was Calysane, and one forgot that at one’s own peril.

  Everyone called her Calys anyway.

  She invited herself along on every daylight excursion, refusing to be left out of anything that might be amusing. Her governess, a tired woman named Clara, had long since given up trying to mold the girl into a proper lady. Calys guffawed, repeated ribald jokes, bluntly stated truths without regard for tact, and generally gave everyone fits. This endeared her greatly to Katin.

  Naturally, she had attached herself to today’s party the instant she caught wind of it. Amira never objected to her presence, but thought the girl was silly, never mind that she was only four years younger. She pointedly ignored Calys wherever they went. Calys either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

  They took horses this day, rather than a coach. “It’s been a dog’s age since there was a caravan in town,” Calys was saying, as they ambled past a barley farm. “I always fancy looking at the dresses. They always have such odd styles!” She pulled back her sun bonnet, letting it ride below her short-cropped hair, which barely reached to her neck. Calys had wanted it cut short, and her father had refused, so she had snuck to the gardener’s shed and used pruning shears to do it herself. Count Asmus had been enraged, not so much at the messy haircut as at the defiance. But five minutes later he was laughing heartily and speculating on whether his wife would faint if she saw Calys’s hair.

  The sun smiled down on them as they came into Hedenham Town. The trade caravan with its garishly painted wagons had shown up the previous evening and set up shop in the square. Townsfolk swarmed all around it, oohing and aahing over the fine silks, haggling over odd trinkets, warily examining the strange foods from foreign lands. Calys claimed that she’d heard the caravan had gotten its wares from ships docking at Seawatch, far to the northeast.

  The party pulled up short when a young man came running out of Master Stephens’s counting-house on the edge of the square. Ilya Tarian was coming into the gawky phase of his youth, his arms gangling down his side like a scarecrow. His true name was Illadrin, but unlike his sister, he preferred the shorter nickname. He bunked with other apprentices here in town, yet most nights made the trek to Tinehall for dinner with the family.

  “Hello, sister!” he shouted out. “Lady Amira,” he added, bowing deeply to her.

  Calys looked down at him as only an older sister can. “Shouldn’t you be inside counting something?”

  “I saw you through the window and asked Master Stephens for a moment to greet you. Is Dardan back soon?”

  “This afternoon,” Amira said. “I believe we will be dining at the manor, all together.”

  “Yes, it’s been days since you and Dard made lovey-dovey eyes at each other,” Calys said, sniggering. Amira ignored her, but Katin thought her jaw tightened a little. Amira had become very picky about how her developing relationship with Dardan was referred to. She had made it clear to Katin that she was most certainly not in love with the man.

  “Calys is just jealous that no one makes eyes at her,” Ilya smirked.

  “My name is Calysane!” the girl shrieked, kicking her leg out at her brother. Her horse danced back suddenly, and she lost her balance, clinging to the saddle for a moment before righting herself. Ilya scampered back inside the counting-house, cackling.

  ———

  The caravan made for a fine diversion, though Katin saw little that she might actually want to own. They browsed a while, then visited the splendid temple beside the square. Amira stopped to pray there every time they came into town, and Katin had long since resigned herself to it.

  They took luncheon at the Copper Kettle, the large homey inn across from the temple, rather than return to the manor. They had finished eating and were having their tea when hooves clopped on the stones outside. Moments later the Tarian men burst in the door, arguing.

  “The baron will find a way to avoid paying for the repairs, father, you know I’m right.”

  “He’ll do what I tell him, and that’s that!” Asmus growled back. Dardan threw his hands up, but then spied Amira and the others
from across the common room. He doffed his hat, straightened his hair, and made for them. Katin felt a twinge—some feeling she could not quite identify—when she saw Liam behind him.

  Dardan approached the table and bowed to the womenfolk. “Lady Amira. You look radiant.” Katin watched her mistress as she smiled up at the lordling and spoke to him. It was a true smile, reaching her eyes. Despite her protestations that she was not in love with him, Amira had also confided that in all the time she’d spent with Dardan, she’d never seen a cruel mark in his behavior. Like all men, especially the young, he was prone to occasional fits of anger and pride, but none of his rancor ever survived past the moment, and he went out of his way to be courteous and generous toward commoners. It was not unusual for him to stop what he was doing to converse with this farmer or that carpenter or blacksmith, simply to ask how they fared and whether there was anything their lord could do for them.

  Amira had finally come to the conclusion that if Dardan did propose marriage, she would accept. She had admitted to Katin that aside from being plain of looks and a little short on humor, there was little that could be said against him. She might not love Dardan, but they both knew that that was no bar to a noble marriage. The other Tarians were feisty and thoroughly loving, and Hedenham would be a pleasant enough place to live one’s life.

  And what about Katin’s own life? Liam had not once slackened in his quest. She had grown angry when she’d caught herself thinking once that maybe it might not be so bad, to feel his lips on hers…

  “Katin? Katin!” Amira said.

  Katin started, and then blushed when she realized that everyone else was staring at her, just as she’d been staring at Liam. “M’lady?” she said, trying to regain some semblance of dignity. Calys was giggling quietly behind her hand, and right then Katin did not feel charitable toward her.

  Dardan cleared his throat. “It would please me to take my lady to visit Baroness Dyane’s gardens. They are most wondrous. Our last visit to the baroness’s manse was in the evening, and so we did not see them.”

  Everyone agreed that this was a wonderful idea. As they all prepared to leave, Katin found herself standing beside Liam, and Dardan strode up to them. “I believe that we shall be quite well attended, what with father, Old Ban, and Calys and Clara, and the house guards. Perhaps you two should take some time for, um… a stroll.” He nodded firmly, clearly satisfied, and left. Katin’s cheeks burned. Had Liam enlisted his master in conspiring to send the valai off together? The nerve of the man!

  Liam offered his arm to Katin. “If miss is ready?”

  Dubious, she took his arm. She realized her heart was pattering as she watched the others mount up and trot away across the square. “I fear for this town when Calys comes of age,” she said, trying to ease her own nervousness. It had gotten harder for her to make cracks at Liam’s expense.

  Liam snorted. “Asmus will reap what he has sown. Calys’s parents are two of the most stubborn people I’ve ever met.”

  “That poor woman Clara. I doubt there’s a governess alive who could bring Calys in line.”

  “Ah, the world’s a better place with Calys the way she is. Gives a spark to the whole thing. But, erm, Calys is not the young lady I wish to speak about just now.” They’d been strolling slowly along the edge of the square, and now Liam came to a halt and turned to face Katin. “Miss Berisha, this is not something I do often, so pray forgive me if I express myself poorly.”

  Katin raised an eyebrow. “Now you sound like a lord. Am I to expect bad news?”

  Liam laughed. “No, nothing like that. I’m far too fond of you to, er…” He trailed off, looking a little startled at what he’d said.

  She could not pass up that opening. “Do go on. I’m ever so keen to hear more on this topic.”

  “Ah. Yes. We’ve, well, we’ve spent quite some time together these past months. I feel that we’ve come to know each other quite well. Er, when in Hedenham—that is, in Hedenham, when a man wishes to… to bring a proposal to a lady…”

  She felt her jaw drop open, and clamped it shut. Was he about to propose to her? A man like him, waiting for marriage? Her mind reeled at the prospect.

  And how dare he think that she would be amenable to such a thing? When had she ever given him the slightest hint that she might have an interest in him? Merely because they spent so many hours in one another’s company? Merely because she’d allowed him to take her on long walks around the Tarians’ gardens? Merely because… Oh dear.

  Liam had stopped when her mouth opened. “Go on,” she said, not trusting herself to express anything more complex.

  “Ah, well, when a man wants to bring his proposal to a lady—that is, a proposal of marriage, well, um…” He trailed off again, staring into her eyes.

  She could not bear it any longer. “Wha—are you actually—I can’t believe you’d go as far as marriage to get me into bed!”

  Liam’s eyes went wide. “What? No! Oh no, no, I’m not proposing to you! I would never—I mean, not never—but you—augh!” He grunted in frustration and stomped a few steps away.

  Now Katin was thoroughly befuddled. “What in the black spirits is this about?” she demanded.

  After a few moments Liam turned back. His words came out between gritted teeth. “I am bringing you a proposal of marriage from Lord Dardan to Lady Amira.”

  Katin’s eyes grew wide, and she felt a grand idiot. “Oh. Oh! Then… they’re waiting at the baroness’s garden?”

  “Yes, and we’d probably have finished this conversation and arrived there by now if you’d have just let me speak.” Liam sighed in frustration. “As Lady Amira has no male kin, m’lord and the count concluded that the offer should be presented to you.”

  Katin gulped, trying to push her heart back into her chest where it belonged. “Um. Well. In that case, I hereby accept your offer, on behalf of my lady, Amira Estaile.” That was the easy part, at least.

  “Then we had best get going. You know how m’lord hates waiting.” He stiffly offered his arm. His frustration had degenerated into mild disgruntlement.

  Katin took his arm and let him lead her along. That could not have possibly gone worse. And for the first time in her memory, Katin felt ashamed at how she’d spoken to Liam.

  ———

  Baroness Dyane’s house major said he’d been expecting them, and led them through the manse to the gardens behind it. Hedenham Town was less cramped than Callaston, so the gardens stretched out of sight into the distance—although perhaps it was an illusion, for the garden had many winding paths, high hedges, and topiaries shaped like birds, fish, and deer, and one that appeared to be an enormous frog. Katin inhaled the scents of roses and daffodils and bluethistle; they had a calming effect on her, which she desperately needed. Every time she thought about the conversation in the square, her pulse began to race again.

  Liam led her along a path toward the sound of conversation. They came around a curve and spied Lord Dardan and Lady Amira standing arm in arm before a tranquil pool. Count Asmus stood a little distance away, watching them as they chatted. Old Ban lurked behind him. The governess Clara stood on the other side of the pool as Calys crouched to examine something in the water. And sitting in an iron-wrought chair by the edge of the pool was a little noblewoman, old and withered, with close-cropped silver hair. She was dressed as fine as any of them, and Katin recognized her as Baroness Dyane Ulmic. Her vala, who seemed equally old though less frail, stood behind her.

  They came to a stop just out of earshot. Liam waited a few moments until Asmus chanced to look over at them. The count’s eyes widened and he tilted his chin up in inquiry, and Liam nodded deeply to him. Asmus broke into a wide grin. He glanced over at Dardan and nodded as well.

  Dardan let go of Amira’s arm and stepped back. He turned to face her, and went down to one knee. Amira, seeming surprised—but this could be no surprise, not really—put a hand up to her breast and gasped.

  “I want to hear,” Katin urged, st
epping forward and pulling Liam with her. They came close enough, behind Amira, to overhear Dardan speaking.

  “…lady, I would be honored beyond any man who lived or has yet to live, if you would become my lady wife.” In his hand was a tiny box with something glinting in it—the rings. He held it up to Amira.

  “I accept,” she said, and Katin could hear joy in her voice. She knew Amira, and that was not feigned. Dardan rose, drew the smaller ring from the box, and slipped it onto Amira’s ring finger on her left hand. In turn, she took the larger ring and placed it onto Dardan’s left ring finger. When facing one another, holding hands, the rings would be far from each other. At the wedding, a second pair of rings would be exchanged, to go on the right hands. Each ring would then have a matched partner, symbolizing the eternal bond.

  The little ceremony ended, and even Calys clapped with tears in her eyes. Katin came up and embraced Amira, and they cried into each other’s hair. Amira might not be in love, but even she was still susceptible to the emotion wrought by a betrothal. Amira showed Katin her ring: a band of silver between two bands of onyx, with a long emerald curving along the upper side. At the wedding, Dardan would receive another like it, but larger. Katin went to look at Dardan’s ring, which was bright yellow gold with a crosshatch pattern and a fat round amberstone mounted upon it.

  Even Count Asmus looked misty-eyed. He gripped his son by the shoulders and pulled him into an embrace. “I’m proud of you, m’boy,” Katin overheard him mutter.

  Old Baroness Dyane beamed to have hosted this event, and insisted that they all stay for tea and cakes. Calys accepted on her brother’s behalf before anyone else could speak, and even Amira laughed at her enthusiasm.

  ———

  It was evening before they left, their original dinner plans thwarted, but no one minded. They’d stayed so long that Dyane had her servants prepare extra places for dinner. Finally the meal ended and the whole group departed for Tinehall.

  They crossed the town square in the twilight. Katin felt drained. Her dismay at what had happened with Liam battled against her elation at Amira’s good fortune, and finally the elation had won out. But just barely. Katin looked forward to getting a good night’s sleep; in the morning, the memory would be a little less sharp.

  Rapid hoofbeats drifted to her ears from the road ahead. She perked up. Who would be racing along in the dark at this hour? He’d likely make his horse stumble, or worse. Moments later the galloping mount became visible around the curve of a street, a dark blotch in the dusk. The rider seemed to notice the party ahead, and slowed to a trot. Two Tarian guards, one carrying a torch, moved ahead to screen the rider.

  “Who’s there?” Count Asmus called out as the man came within shouting distance. The rider was breathing as hard as his horse, whose head drooped as it came to a stop before them.

  “Is that the count? M’lord, it’s… it’s me, Yancey Stearns,” the man said between gasps for air.

  “Farmer Yancey? I thought you’d taken goods to Callaston,” Dardan said, riding over to him. “Where’s your wagon?”

  “No, not—not important,” the man went on. “Your wife, the, the countess. She… sent me to tell you…”

  Tendrils of panic began to slither around Katin. She glanced over at Liam, who leaned forward intently, watching the exhausted farmer.

  “The king… the king is dead. He’s been… been murdered. By Prince Edon.”

  CHAPTER 13

  DARDAN