How was this possible? That Tayse, who had distrusted sorcery with all his heart when she first met him, was now willing to abandon himself utterly to witchery? While she, whose life had been shaped in every particular by the power in her hands, was hesitant and afraid to submit to enchantment? She took a deep breath.
“We must have some kind of agreement,” she said. “After the first hour of flight. You must stop, and set us down, and ask us if we can tolerate more of this unnatural existence. And if we say we cannot—”
“Well, you won’t be able to say anything,” Kirra pointed out. “You’ll still be a mouse.”
“I realize that! But you will ask, and you will give me a task to do to indicate that I am or am not willing to continue. And if I am, then you can gather me up in your claws again and carry me away for as long as your strength holds up.”
Kirra practically bounced in her chair. “Most excellent! I am proud of both of you. Sleep well tonight. We leave on quite an adventure in the morning.”
THE entire manor house was awake by dawn, for their own small party was not the only one anxious to return home. Senneth met all three of her brothers in the dining hall and said good-byes over a hasty breakfast. She waved off Will’s wild enthusiasm about her magic and Harris’s somewhat less hearty appreciation, and she gave Kiernan a sober look.
“When I see you again, it may be on another battlefield,” she said.
“Count on it,” he said. “I will ride out with the army I send to Ghosenhall.”
“Travel safely back to Brassen Court. You have to assume there is unrest across all the northern Houses. I would avoid Tilt, if I were you.”
He smiled grimly. “Yes, I believe I will. You, too—take care in your travels.”
He had no idea how completely she planned to disregard that admonition.
It was still early morning when she and Tayse, Kirra and Donnal gathered in a little garden not far from the kitchens. Tayse made a pile of the items he wanted to bring with him back to Ghosenhall—his various blades, his uniform, his sash with the royal lions—but Senneth had very little she cared to salvage from her outbound journey. The blue dress was ruined. Her pendant, Kirra had assured her, was small enough to change along with her body. She added nothing to the pile.
“All right,” she said, taking a deep breath and sinking to the ground, “change me if you can.”
Kirra knelt beside her and put her hands on Senneth’s face. The blue eyes were intent and serious as they watched Senneth; the beautiful face was furrowed in concentration. Senneth closed her eyes and felt the sharp tingle of magic along her cheekbones, down the back of her throat, in her hips, her knees, her toes. Her head felt suddenly bound with pressure, which abruptly faded. Her fingers involuntarily splayed and flexed. Her heart was beating so fast it should have made her breathless, but the pulse seemed strangely unalarming. She sniffed and thought how rich and spicy the air had suddenly become.
“Open your eyes. And give yourself a moment to adjust.”
Oh, how the world had changed.
She was in a forest of high, brown grass; nuts as large as her head littered the ground. Huge, ungainly creatures were grouped around her, so big they were impossible to see. Below her, the ground stretched on forever, loose soil full of hidden treasures, pockets of mud safe for burrowing into. Her feet were pink and dainty, perfect for scratching through dirt. She could feel her nose twitching, sifting through the laden air, picking out scents for food and danger.
In a lifetime of magic, Senneth had never experienced such a strange spell. She lifted one of the four-toed feet and patted her cheek, trying to get a sense of her face and fur. She was herself, all her thought processes familiar and intact, and yet she wasn’t. Fine-honed instincts not her own hovered at the back of her mind. Even now, knowing that the monsters around her were beloved friends, she was poised to run should they suddenly turn capricious. She was calculating the distance to safety; she was distracted by the presence of a dried berry on a nearby shrub.
One of the gigantic humans flattened to the ground, its face inches away. Senneth recognized Kirra but it took all her willpower to keep from chittering and scurrying away. “How are you tolerating this so far?” Kirra asked, her voice very loud and quite distinct. “If you don’t think you can bear it another moment, just stay right there and I’ll change you back. If you think you can manage, take a few steps over toward Donnal.”
Well, which one was Donnal? Senneth turned in a half circle to locate him, kneeling a few feet away, his outstretched hand lying on the ground. She minced over and scrabbled into his palm, thinking how different the texture of skin was compared to grass and dirt.
She felt a moment’s panic when his fingers closed around her and he lifted her up, but she sternly suppressed her fear. She blinked her little eyes as she found herself staring into Donnal’s large ones.
“She’ll do,” he said. He was grinning through his beard.
A rustle and a thump as Tayse dropped to the ground. “Then change me, and let’s be off.”
Senneth didn’t really get a good view of that alteration, for Donnal held her and stroked her back until it was over. But a few minutes later he set her on the ground face-to-face with a sleek black mouse with bristling white whiskers and inquisitive black eyes. Tayse. He took a few tentative steps forward, lifted his feet one at a time as if to gauge how they worked, then came close enough to touch Senneth’s nose with his own.
It was so strange. It was Tayse. She could almost see his mind working, hear him assessing how he felt, what his strengths and weaknesses might be in this particular form. He didn’t seem nearly as disconcerted as she felt. Indeed, after only a moment of self-exploration he whipped around in a circle so tight that his long tail almost snapped across Senneth’s face. He was looking at Kirra, and his stance plainly communicated his message: No more wasting time. Let us leave now.
Kirra laughed and looked over at Donnal. “Successful so far,” she said. “Do you want to be responsible for the Rider or the mystic?”
“I’ll take Tayse,” he said. “Let’s be on our way.”
Senneth had to fight back a moment of abject terror when Kirra and Donnal, suddenly, became two great hawks stalking majestically through the grass. Kirra and Donnal, she reminded herself. Kirra and Donnal. But the hawks looked ferocious, sharp-beaked, and evil. Her little heart was hammering inside her tiny chest.
And, oh, didn’t that get suddenly worse when the nearest one closed its talons around her round brown body and carried her off into the fathomless air.
Senneth shuddered in Kirra’s careful grip, trying not to shake too much for fear the claws would open and send her tumbling to the ground. For the first ten minutes of the flight, Senneth couldn’t even bear to look down. She just concentrated on calming her terror and reminding herself who she was. When she did finally try to peer through the talons to the ground below, she felt another surge of fright. There was nothing—just patches of white that must be bits of cloud, and a blur of dark so far away it had no distinguishing features. They could not possibly be so high in the air; this foolish little creature must simply have eyesight that could not see very far.
Senneth did not know whether to be sorry or grateful.
They flew for what seemed like forever. Once her fear faded, and she realized she couldn’t even entertain herself by watching the landscape, Senneth started to get bored. Two days of this? No conversation, no distraction, nothing but wind and existence? How in the world would she endure? The only real option was sleep, and that was easy enough to achieve, despite the truly extraordinary circumstances. She closed her eyes and let herself be lulled by motion.
Twice during that day, Kirra and Donnal landed and let them attend to their needs. Food was sparse, but they were in agricultural country, so there were seeds to nibble on and water was easy to find. At each stop, Tayse scurried over to nuzzle at Senneth’s ear, checking that she was still whole. At each stop, Kirra conserved
her energy by staying a hawk, but Donnal shifted into human shape and asked if either of them wished to be changed back.
Neither of them found that necessary.
They flew on until nightfall, then made a neat landing and a rough camp. Both Kirra and Donnal took human form to lay out bedrolls and hunt for water.
“Feels like it’s going to be a cold night. I think I’ll have Donnal start a fire when he gets back,” Kirra told the mice when Donnal had gone off foraging. “Should be safe enough—I haven’t seen a homestead or another traveler for miles.”
Senneth wrinkled her nose and picked her way off the smooth boulder where Kirra and Donnal had deposited her and Tayse. She used her tiny hands to gather a handful of twigs and pile them together. Could she do this with such an unfamiliar body? Wasn’t the magic an intrinsic part of her? Surely it could not have been changed, actually erased?
“I don’t believe this,” Kirra said and settled on the ground nearby. Tayse had jumped off the boulder and come over to watch, his dark eyes curious. “Even you—”
Senneth patted the kindling with her small, nervous fingers. Her body heat was so high already when she wore this shape; how hard could it be to summon fever, summon sparks? She tapped the twigs again.
A yellow flame licked through the scraps of wood. Senneth backed up on quick legs to get far enough away and then teased the flame higher, hotter. It was hard to gauge from this unfamiliar size. Was that a normal campfire, or too big? Too small?
Kirra was laughing. “How is that possible? Gods, no wonder people hate mystics. The little mouse who could set fire to a house! Who wouldn’t be afraid of such a creature? Senneth, you’re amazing.”
Donnal was back a few moments later, water in one hand and a dead rabbit in the other. He looked at the fire a moment before glancing at Senneth and then over at Kirra. “Did you build it or did she?” he asked.
Kirra was still laughing. “She did! And I assume it will burn all night, no other fuel required!”
Donnal grinned. “Well, then. Let’s cook dinner.”
THE second day was much easier than the first. The fear was completely gone, and all that was left was impatience. On the other hand, Senneth was actually enjoying the chance to simply sleep the day away. She couldn’t remember the last time she had ever been so idle.
“If we continue after dark, we can make Ghosenhall tonight,” Donnal informed them as they took a break in the afternoon. “Do you want to be human before you return or shall we take you straight to your own cottage and change you there?”
Kirra-the-hawk uttered a sharp cry and danced on her thin legs, but no one could understand her. It was important enough to her that she spent the energy to transform herself to human. “We’ll take them to Justin’s cottage,” she said, her face alight with mischief. “Don’t you think Justin would love to see Senneth and Tayse as mice?”
“Cammon’s the one who would make this interesting,” Donnal said.
Kirra actually clapped her hands together. “Yes! We won’t change them till Cammon has seen them! Will he recognize them, do you think?”
“He always recognizes us.”
“Surely this is different. Oh, I hope it won’t take us too long to find Cammon once we get back.”
Donnal was grinning and shaking his head. “You know he knows we’re on the way. He’ll probably be at Justin’s place, waiting for us to touch down.”
“Then let’s go! No more time to waste!”
Kirra and Donnal each took owl shape so they could see well enough for the nighttime flight. It was full dark and then some when they finally made it to Ghosenhall. Senneth was awake now, and once again trying to see through the prison of Kirra’s talons. They were close enough to the ground that she could make out buildings and spires—unbelievably huge structures—everything half-lit with exterior torches or interior candles. They glided across the guarded walls, and no Rider thought to halt them. They dipped even lower, wingtips almost brushing the rooftop of a long building that had to be the barracks. Lower—silently banking—and toward a boxlike structure that had to be a cottage. Kirra settled to the ground and released her burden, and Senneth came tumbling out into a familiar and utterly alien world. One very large man was just now bursting through the door; two other shapes hurtled after him. Cammon, followed by Justin and Ellynor.
“Look!” Cammon cried. “Kirra and Donnal are back, and they’ve brought Tayse and Senneth!”
CHAPTER
26
CAMMON had actually been a little glad that Senneth would be gone for nearly two weeks. Her absence, he’d hoped, would make it easier for him to steal time alone with Amalie. But he had reckoned without Valri, who became more watchful than ever during the time that Senneth was gone. It was as if Valri knew about the kiss.
During this time, the queen did not allow Cammon and Amalie any time alone at all. If she couldn’t be present whenever Cammon was expected in the room, she made sure Belinda Brendyn was on hand. If the regent’s wife was unavailable, Wen and Janni were sure to show up, prepared to offer the princess another lesson in self-defense.
Wen had brought Amalie a wicked little dagger with a carved bone hilt and taught her how to use it. Now not a day went by that Cammon didn’t see Amalie absentmindedly touch her hand to her left knee, where the slim sheath had been buckled on just above the bend of bone.
“Sleep with it, too,” Wen advised one day shortly after Tayse and Senneth had departed. “Only take it off when you’re bathing—and even then, keep it close to hand.”
“Well, she might want to take it off when she’s—you know—I mean, her husband—” Janni said, floundering past what she was originally going to say when she realized that the princess probably had never taken a lover.
Wen gave her a look of exaggerated surprise. “You remove all your weapons then? That’s when you need them most.”
The Riders erupted into laughter. Amalie was delighted—she loved it that the other women didn’t guard their tongues around her. Valri, who was present today, tolerated the raillery, though she clearly disliked it. “And these men you spend time with,” Amalie asked, trying to keep her voice grave. “Are they also armed when you are—intimate?”
“The Riders are,” Janni said, still laughing. “But other men? Sometimes I’m amazed at how unprotected they allow themselves to be.”
“But then, who’d want any man but a Rider?” Wen asked. The smile abruptly left her face and Cammon felt her well-worn flare of misery. But what if the Rider doesn’t want you? she was thinking. And then, so clearly that he could not have blocked the thought if he tried: Justin.
Amalie folded her hands in her lap and looked decorous. “I don’t believe a Rider will be my fate,” she said. “So what else should I know in order to protect myself from my husband if he becomes unpleasant?”
“Majesty,” Valri said in a sharp voice. She was sitting halfway across the room, frowning over some correspondence, but this turn in the conversation had caught her attention.
“It’s a fair question,” Janni said, clearly not intimidated by royalty. “Myself, I’d wait till he was asleep, then slit his throat.”
“But if he’s turned violent and wants to hurt her, she can’t wait,” Wen said.
“Please!” Valri exclaimed. “Amalie’s husband will not offer her harm! And if he does, he’ll be imprisoned for treason!”
Wen put her fingers around Amalie’s wrist and pulled the princess to her feet. She was completely ignoring Valri. “I’m going to show you a nice trick,” she said. “Pretend I’m your brutish husband. Now, when I grab your arm—”
Valri flung her hands in the air, watched a moment, and then returned her attention to her letters. Cammon spared her a glance, remembering what she’d said to him more than a week ago. You think I don’t know how to cut a man’s throat? He would put his money on Valri, despite her small size, if he had to wager on who would win a fight between an assailant and the queen.
He sigh
ed. She had certainly won this particular contest between the two of them. He wanted to see Amalie, and Valri wanted him to keep his distance. So far, Valri had prevailed.
There had been no more midnight trysts in the kitchen, no more unchaperoned strolls down to the lair of the raelynx. Sometimes, late at night as he walked back up from Justin’s cottage, Cammon let himself hope that Amalie would sneak from her rooms and come meet him on the back lawn. But even though he allowed some of his longing to escape, to whisper in her ear, he never sensed her moving from the upper reaches of the palace down to the public rooms and gardens. He knew she wanted to see him as much as he wanted to see her. But Valri had developed a habit of coming to Amalie’s room at night to discuss the events of the day. On these nights the queen would fall asleep curled up in her chair—too close for Amalie to creep past her without waking her.
At first, Cammon was annoyed and resentful when he realized that Valri was deliberately staying in Amalie’s room to keep her from any secret assignations with him.
Then he was astonished when he realized that Valri had become one of the people whose presence always registered in his consciousness.
He knew when she was in the breakfast room with the king. He could tell when she had gone down to the kitchens to confer with the cooks. He knew when she was in the gardens with the princess, for he could sense them both, a bright shape of gold, a dense shape of shadow, side by side, slowly pacing.
When had that happened? He still could not break through the Lirren magic when she chose to conceal her thoughts, or Amalie’s. He suspected that, if she tried, she could render her body invisible to him while they were sitting in the same room. But he would still be able to close his eyes and know exactly where she was. She had become a part of him, important to him. Her existence had become ingrained into the daily routine of his own.
He didn’t know how to interpret that. Didn’t know why it had happened. But she was there now, along with the others, indispensable and integral. And so he knew where she spent her nights, and he knew he could expect no more stolen moments with Amalie.