by Gwynn White
A shiver trilled down her spine, but she suppressed it, hoping he wouldn’t notice. She was honor-bound to marry this man. Something she could never forget, no matter how much his touch chilled her.
They passed a group of high-born. The men’s jaws dropped, and the women tittered. The women wore jeweled-colored, bustled gowns in the richest silks.
They made her black, cotton-and-lace dress look shabby. For the second time since leaving home, Lynx’s cheeks burned at her clothing—something so pathetic that, in the past, she’d never spared a second thought about.
The high-borns’ reaction obviously didn’t please Lukan, because he smacked his hand hard against his thigh.
The noise ripped the group from their gaping. Heads bent, they dropped hasty bows or curtsies.
Lynx shot Lukan a tentative smile, grateful he’d rescued her.
Once past the crowd, Lukan ruined his gallantry by saying, “I don’t appreciate other men ogling what’s mine. In the future, please ensure you dress appropriately. I’m sure Mother Saskia provided you with a list of approved styles.”
Lynx bristled; he still hadn’t agreed that she was his equal and not his toy. She forced a calm she didn’t feel into her voice. “Marriage doesn’t buy me, Lukan.”
Lukan stiffened next to her. “I’m to be your husband. I think that’s enough.”
They reached a doorway into a dark space.
Lynx steeled herself against her racing pulse as Lukan swept her into a room dominated by a long, baronial table. Heavy tapestries draped the walls, absorbing the torchlight. Still, from what she could make out, the room was easily twice the size of the Norin council tent. That made it the second largest brick-and-mortar room she’d ever seen, after the assembly hall where she’d first sighted Lukan.
Nothing here reminded her of home.
Mott’s booming voice cut short her musings. “Lukan, Tao, show the princesses to their seats. I can’t be bothered with introductions.”
Lynx did a quick head count as Lukan guided her to an uncomfortable-looking wooden chair at the head of the table opposite Mott.
Fifteen men—the current leaders of the high-born families the she-witch had spoken about, Lynx presumed—flanked both sides of the table. Candles on the table cast eerie, waving shadows across their faces, but from the combined weight of their watchful gazes, she guessed they were here to inspect her and Kestrel.
The susurrus that rippled through the room as she stepped closer suggested both shock and amazement at her dress.
It was becoming tedious.
Many an eye turned to the emperor; clearly, his high-born were as surprised as she was by his tacit acceptance of her rebellion. The emperor sat in his throne-like chair, surveying the gathering with a hard line to his jaw.
Another spurt of confidence shot through Lynx, and her steps lightened. What did it matter what these people thought of her and her clothes? She knew who she was and what she was doing here. She’d marry their arrogant crown prince, find the answer to their guardsmen’s powers—and then spend the rest of her life looking for a way to destroy them and their empire. The brazen idea sent a secret thrill of delight down her spine.
She forced herself back to reality.
The only other woman in the room sat to Mott’s right. Lynx knew Mott’s wife had died in childbirth, delivering Tao. Or that is what rumor said. He had never remarried, so she guessed the twenty-something beauty with hennaed hair and a sapphire next to her right eye was his mistress.
The rasping of wood on stone pulled Lynx’s attention back to Lukan. His hand rested on the back of her chair. He waited for her to sit before sliding into a chair next to her. So close to him, their elbows almost touched. She just managed to resist the urge to pull away. How was she supposed to get physical with him when she couldn’t bear his touch?
He leaned in, and she could feel his hot breath on her exposed cleavage. “You certainly know how to stir things up. Warn me, is this something you plan on continuing with once we’re married?”
Could he read her thoughts? Lynx’s chest tightened, and her breathing stuttered.
“Lynx, are you okay? You’re very pale.” Like a lifeline, Kestrel’s voice reached her from across the table.
After another deeper, more calming breath, she muttered, “It’s the heat. Winds know, there’s no ventilation here. But I’m fine now.” She forced a smile at Kestrel and Tao.
Although she had seen Tao before, she was struck by his beautiful blue eyes and silvery blond hair. He needed only beads and feathers in his hair and a change of clothing—no Norin would be seen dead in a brocade waistcoat—and he could pass for a raider. It was strangely comforting, if illusory.
“Heat?” Lukan asked, his voice low, probably to prevent the attentive high-born sitting around them from hearing him. “I suppose you would think that, after living in a tent.”
“You say that as if living in a tent would be beneath you.”
“I’m merely pointing out the differences.” Lukan leaned back in his chair and looked away. His rejection was obvious.
Not sure what to make of it, Lynx turned her attention to Kestrel. Her sister’s eyes glistened with . . .
Lynx leaned in closer for a better look. Kestrel’s eyes were overly bright, although no excitement blossomed on her face.
Then Lynx understood. Tao was blond.
Lynx’s heart melted for her. It seemed neither of them wanted their future husbands.
Tao whispered to Kestrel, “That’s Lady Nithena, my father’s mistress.” He pointed to the woman sitting next to Mott.
Kestrel looked away, probably not wanting Tao to see her tears.
Lynx came to her rescue, asking the only question she wanted answered. “The sapphire next to her eye? What does it signify?”
“That she’s high-born. Diamonds for the emperor and his sons.” Tao gestured to himself and Lukan. “Emeralds for high-born men, and sapphires for women. Oh, and Axel and his father are the only ones who wear rubies. But you probably know that.”
It wasn’t the answer Lynx hoped for, but she could hardly expect Tao to pour out all the Chenayan secrets over dinner. And he’d been more forthcoming than anyone else she’d questioned about the stones. She smiled at him as a waiter placed a steaming dish of something that looked ominously like snails before her. Swallowing her disgust, she reluctantly picked up a fork.
All conversation dwindled, partly because every attempt was met by a halt in the low chatter coming from the high-born. Only Mott’s voice continued, unabated, as he regaled the company with exploits of past hunts.
Eventually, Tao placed his dessert spoon on his plate and said, “My father’s about to call for chenna.” His eyes trailed across to Kestrel.
Her sister seemed not to hear. She was watching Lukan, who swirled patterns with the remaining berry sauce on his dessert plate. He looked distant, too.
Knowing how much Kestrel had wanted to marry Lukan, Lynx again stepped in to help her until she felt ready to face Tao. “What’s chenna?”
Tao raised an eyebrow and then leaned forward, whispering. “Chenna? Come on, everyone in the empire drinks it. It’s our one unifying vice.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but Norin don’t drink chenna.”
Tao glanced over at Kestrel, frowned, then whispered, “Maybe you know it as Dragon’s Blood. But I don’t suggest you call it that. Not here in the Heartland.”
Ah! Now she knew what he meant. Every evening after dinner, Axel and Stefan had drunk a few shots of a vile-looking, blood-red drink. It reeked like pure alcohol.
Seeing an opportunity to learn more about Chenaya from a potentially talkative source, Lynx decided to play dumb. “Definitely no chenna in Norin, Tao.” She smiled at him. “Dragons are exclusive to the Heartland.”
Tao surprised her by smiling back, making the diamond next to his eye sparkle. “No dragons? What a shame. You really did miss out.”
Lynx blinked, twice. From his tone, she almo
st thought he could have done with a few less dragons in his life, too. That was intriguing.
She leaned forward. “Tell me more.”
“I assume you’re talking about chenna?”
“Of course.” She could hardly say otherwise. She glanced at Lukan, but he was still studiously ignoring her.
“It has the tendency to fry the brains of the uninitiated.” Tao shot another concerned look at Kestrel, but his gentle flirting with Lynx seemed lost on her sister.
If Lynx weren’t so disgusted with her own partner, she might have been tempted to nudge Kestrel under the table. Instead, she said, “Well, that sounds just like your typical dragon.”
“You could say that,” Tao said. “Emperor Thurban first distilled it to give his troops courage while they ravaged our neighbors. I think he described it as ‘expanding the boundaries of our empire.’ Or that’s what my history professor said.”
Lynx sucked in a breath. Tao’s grimace suggested that he didn’t approve.
Watching him closely, she said, “It seems, nowadays, bits of jasper, surgically inserted next to the eye, have replaced the chenna.”
Lukan lurched forward. “Don’t listen to my brother, Lynx. He’s about the worst example of a Chenayan you can get.”
“Really?” Lynx replied, annoyed that, after ignoring her all evening, he would interrupt this conversation. “Well, that’s maybe why Tao appeals to me. It seems neither of us like dragons”—she paused—“blood.”
“Give it a few weeks, and you’ll be drinking it,” Lukan replied with annoying confidence. “And then you’ll be a true Chenayan.”
“Don’t hold your breath.” Lynx picked up her goblet. “I’ll stick to mead.”
Tao laughed, a spontaneous, joyous sound, alien in the turgid atmosphere. Lynx’s heart soared when Kestrel’s head shot up. Her sister studied Tao as if seeing him for the first time.
From the top of the table, Mott demanded, “Share the joke, Tao.”
Laughter silenced, Tao replied, “It would not improve with repetition, sire.”
“You have disrupted the evening with your raucous noise. Now explain.”
Lynx froze as Tao’s mouth opened and closed, and then he stuttered, “I apologize, sire, but I was merely pointing out the merits of chenna and mead.”
She let out a breath, impressed that Tao hadn’t implicated her in the discussion.
“What is there to discuss, you stupid boy? Chenna beats mead every time.”
Tao’s fair skin burned, but he kept his focus on his father steady.
His defiance was lost on the emperor, who waved a finger at his seneschal, standing at his shoulder. “Chenna.”
Lady Nithena stood, saying, “Come, princesses, let’s leave the men to their drinks.”
Lynx’s mouth sagged. No Norin man would expect women to leave just because he wanted a drink, and no Norin woman would ever obey such a ridiculous command. But she and her dress had caused enough trouble tonight.
It was time to beat a tactical retreat.
As she stood, she caught Kestrel frowning at Lady Nithena; clearly, her sister was as offended as she was.
“We have plenty to talk about,” Lynx said in Norin, hoping neither Lukan nor Tao had bothered to learn their mother’s tongue.
Tao’s face was averted so she couldn’t see his reaction, but Lukan looked blank, so she guessed neither of them had.
At least she and Kestrel had that advantage over them.
Lady Nithena led them into the broad passageway outside the dining hall.
Four imperial guardsmen waited at attention.
“Your Highnesses, the guardsmen will escort you to your apartment.” Lady Nithena curtsied and left.
With two men in the lead and two trailing behind, Lynx and Kestrel walked through the palace. After a confusing number of twists and turns, the guardsmen took them into a side passage.
A young girl dressed in maid’s robes polished the already gleaming parquet floor.
As Lynx drew closer, a middle-aged woman appeared from nowhere, standing next to the girl.
Lynx stumbled, unable to believe her eyes.
The woman was startling, her face a portrait of evil. Strangest of all, her feet didn’t touch the ground but hovered above it. She flickered once and then vanished as if she had never existed.
The child’s eyes flew wide, her face contorted with horror. Screaming, she half-stumbled, half-ran toward Lynx, throwing herself at the feet of the nearest guardsman. “Help me,” the girl screeched. “The Dreaded.”
The guardsmen kicked the child in the ribs, sending her careening against the wall.
“Stop it!” Lynx yelled, punching the soldier on the arm above his vambrace. “Leave her alone.”
He immediately stood to attention, snapping a salute. Lynx was about to bend down to help the girl, but Kestrel beat her to it. Instead of responding to the kindness, the maid scuttled away on her knees, sobbing.
Too practical to believe in ghosts, Lynx bit her lip, trying to make sense of what she’d seen. She came up short on answers. What else could the apparition have been?
But then, why don’t we get them in Norin? Why only here, in the Heartland?
Nothing made sense.
She turned to the guardsmen. “Take us to our apartments. Now.”
As the guards set a brisk pace down the passageway, Kestrel linked her arm with Lynx’s. She could feel her sister trembling. Lynx squeezed her hand.
“What was she?” Kestrel asked in Norin. “I’ve never seen anything so terrible.”
“Uncle Bear called them ‘the Dreaded.’ They’re supposed to be ghosts. Or something like that.”
Kestrel shivered. “I’m doing my best to focus on the positives, but they certainly don’t make it easy, do they?”
“Positives?” Lynx snorted a bitter laugh. “You’re a better person than I am.”
“The magnificent clothes, the artworks. Did you see that exquisite hunting mural on the wall outside the dining room? It was breathtaking.”
Lynx shrugged. She had sort of noticed it.
Kestrel shook her head, smiling. “Oh Lynxie, can’t you see? A people who can create such magnificent art can’t be all bad?”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Lynx said doubtfully. “But don’t forget, they’re also the bloodthirsty bastards who killed Hare.”
They reached a narrow stone archway leading to an even narrower flight of slippery stairs. Lynx assumed they were climbing one of the palace turrets. Finally, they reached a large room, brilliant with oil lamps. A nest of comfortable sofas waited on a brightly colored rug in the center of the space, inviting conversation.
Kestrel sank into one.
Lynx looked around, seeing two doors leading off the room. She peeked through the closest doorway. A giant four-poster bed, nothing like her bedroll in her tent back home, stood in the middle of the room. She guessed the other room was a bedroom, too. She instantly missed her familiar tent.
One of the guardsmen spoke. “Your Highnesses, I’ve stationed two men at the top of the stairs. You can sleep peacefully, knowing you’re well protected.”
Monitored, more like it, Lynx thought.
He bowed low and then nodded to his companions, leading them out of the room.
Lynx considered throwing the cushions from the chairs onto the floor, but sooner or later, she had to get used to life in the palace. She eased down into one of the sofas, trying to get comfortable in her bustle.
Kestrel stretched out like a cat on her red velvet chair. “I might hate those ghost-things, but I could get used to this luxury.” She grinned. “No painful slumping on cushions in the Avanov palace.”
Lynx frowned, then decided there was no point debating with Kestrel about which seating arrangements were better, Chenayan or Norin. “So, Tao?”
Kestrel’s face fell, and her voice was flat, filled with disappointment. “He’s fine . . . if I wanted to marry a Norin. Which I don’t.”
“How would you know, given that you hardly spoke a word to Lukan during the meal?”
The sharpness in Kestrel’s tone surprised Lynx.
She answered in kind. “He made it very clear that he didn’t want to talk to me.” A sigh, and then she admitted, “Any more than I wanted to talk to him.” She stood and paced across the room, stopping to lean against the wall between two oil lamp sconces. “I worry about you. You seem determined to become like them.”
Kestrel sat bolt upright. “And what’s wrong with that? I never fit in at home. This is my chance to belong, to be happy, and I’m grabbing it with both hands.” She frowned. “But it goes against all my dreams to have to marry a man who looks like every boy who ever rejected me because I wouldn’t raid an egg.”
“Tao is more than just his looks.”
“By that argument, so is Lukan.”
Lynx grunted, acknowledging that Kestrel had a point. Her gaze settled on her sister’s face, wishing they were closer. She longed to tell Kestrel about her mission here. If she confided in her, maybe Kestrel would become the ally Lynx needed as she searched for the truth. After a moment’s hesitation, she decided to risk sharing her task.
Kestrel cut her off. “There are far worse things that could happen than making love to someone as gorgeous as Lukan. And as for that diamond next to his eye! Well, I have never seen anything so incredible or so beautiful. Did you notice that it’s bigger than Tao’s?”
Lynx shook her head, glad now for the interruption.
Kestrel looked at her, face etched with concern. “Wolf said I was to support you. So, Lynx, my advice would be to forget your hatred and appreciate what’s being offered to you on a golden platter.” She flopped down onto the sofa. “And if Lukan gets bored with you, you can always make a play for Axel. The two of you seem to have some kind of lusty thing going. He’s probably good in bed, too.”
Mortified Kestrel had sensed her reluctant interest in Axel, Lynx protested, “Axel! In my bed! You have got to be joking. I’d rather befriend the she-witch.”
“Keep telling yourself that, Lynx, and maybe you’ll begin to believe it. Just as well Heron is seven days away by train.”
