“My lady.” Alec presented her with the necklace to match—three matching pearls on a little gold chain.
“You spoil my children,” Micum said, laughing. “Proper uncles, both of you.”
Alec bent to fasten on the necklace. “Stop squirming.”
“I’m too excited!” Illia exclaimed. “We’re going to see the queen, and Beka’s coming home for Mourning Night!”
The chain slipped from Alec’s fingers, and the necklace slithered into the girl’s lap. “She’s coming back from Aurënen?”
“You mean you haven’t heard?” asked Micum. “We had a letter from her last month. Her Urghazi Turma is on border duty above Cirna right now.”
“And Thero?”
“On his way back to the city, last I heard.”
“But not Klia?” asked Alec.
“Not yet. She’s with your sister in Bôkthersa for the winter. A new guard was sent to replace Urghazi Turma.”
“Under whose command?”
“That I don’t know. You mean you haven’t had any word of this?”
Alec shared a worried look with Seregil.
“Maybe they wanted to surprise you,” Illia offered. “Oh dear, and now I’ve spoiled it, haven’t I? But I didn’t tell the other part, did I, Mother?”
“Other part?” asked Alec.
“Beka’s married,” Micum told him. “I believe you know the fellow. A ’faie she met down there, name of Nyal.”
“Our interpreter.” Alec shook his head, smiling. “Well, that’s not much of a surprise. I think you’ll like him.”
“I know I will,” said Illia. “Beka says he’s very handsome!”
Seregil gave her a wink. “He is, indeed.”
“But you mustn’t let on that we told you.”
Seregil fastened the necklace, then swung her around until she giggled. “Don’t you fret, little bird. The joke will be on them when we meet again. Come, let’s go see what Cook’s got for supper.
Seregil kept up a cheerful façade through dinner, but his mind was already turning over possibilities suggested by this new development. This sudden change of bodyguard boded ill for Klia, and Thero would certainly be concerned about it. Why hadn’t he sent word? Phoria had left her popular half sister in unofficial exile all this time, when every good commander was needed in the field. Now she’d stripped her of her trusted entourage and wizard? He began to suspect that Klia’s “visit” with his sister was a strategic withdrawal into friendlier territory.
After dinner they gathered around the hearth in the salon again, Kari and Illia with their knitting, Micum with his pipe.
“Uncle Seregil, why doesn’t the queen like her sister?” Illia asked, looking up from the stocking she was working on.
“Well, they are only half sisters, you know. Klia and her two late brothers were the children of Queen Idrilain’s second consort. And besides, not all sisters get along as well as you and Beka and Elsbet.”
“But why?” Illia persisted.
“It’s not polite to talk about the royal family’s business,” her mother told her. “Tend to your stitches now, and count for the slips. If you don’t turn that heel properly, you’ll give poor Beka blisters.” Kari had been around Watcher business for most of her life and had a good sense of when a conversation wasn’t for young ears.
Alec had somehow ended up on the floor and provided a welcome distraction as he let the two little boys crawl delightedly over him, pulling his hair and wrestling him down onto the rushes. He let them win for a while, then tickled them until they shrieked with laughter and Illia forgot her newfound dignity and joined the fray in their defense. The dogs watched from a safe distance, heads on paws, following the tussle with alert yellow eyes.
Alec had a soft heart for children, and it was never more apparent than around the Cavishes. Seregil had often wondered at that, since Alec had no brothers or sisters of his own, and his father had been a wanderer, never settling anywhere long enough for Alec to make any real friends. Gherin was sitting on Alec’s back now, taking his braid to pieces and Alec laughingly submitted, like an indulgent older brother.
Or a father, thought Seregil. An ordinary, full-blood human of Alec’s age, especially a Dalnan, would have married and fathered a child or two by now.
Seregil was generally very good at not thinking about things that displeased or discomforted him; he’d had a lifetime of practice at that. But when those discomforting things involved Alec, they were harder to put out of his mind.
It was baffling, and not a little annoying, this breach of control.
A touch on his shoulder pulled him from his uneasy thoughts. Micum stood over him, with a look of understanding Seregil wanted no part of. But all he said, with his usual tact, was, “What do you say to a few games of cards? It’s been a while since I’ve taken your money. My purse is feeling a bit light.”
“It’ll be lighter when I’m done with you,” Seregil warned.
“Aren’t we cocky tonight?”
Alec joined them, then Kari, when she’d put the children to bed.
Grateful for the distraction, Seregil threw himself wholeheartedly into the game, and managed to win without cheating much at all.
“I can’t believe no one wrote to us!” Alec grumbled as he and Seregil readied for bed that night.
“Who says they didn’t?” Seregil countered as he sat naked on their wide bed, combing the day’s snarls from his hair.
This room was fitted out with Aurënfaie furnishing, airy and colorful. The gauzy bed curtains rippled lazily as Alec pulled off his shirt and tossed it onto the clothes chest across the room. “You think someone has been stealing letters from us?”
“More likely intercepting them from Klia and Thero.”
“But Beka’s got through.”
“To her parents, outside Rhíminee,” Seregil reminded him. “Not to us. If the Watchers were still active…” He worked at another tangle, leaving the rest unsaid. Again.
Alec shucked off his breeches and flopped down beside him. “So what does it mean? I thought Phoria had forgotten all about us. It’s not like we’re any threat to her.”
“We’re friends with Klia, and helped her succeed in Aurënen, when Phoria was against it.”
“Klia’s always been loyal to the throne, and she’s one of the best commanders!”
“Phoria’s a childless queen, Alec, and she’s not young.” Seregil gave up on his hair and tossed the comb aside. “There’s nothing to secure her throne but her own will. Klia could make a claim for it, as Idrilain’s daughter, even if she is the youngest. Hers would be a stronger claim in some minds than Princess Ariani’s, with her war skills, and certainly better than Ariani’s daughter’s.” Of all Idrilain’s children, Ariani, who shared a father with Phoria and Korathan, was the only one with children. The eldest girl, Elani, was supposed by most to be the heir apparent.
“Klia’s always been popular with the people,” he went on. “Why do you think Phoria’s kept her out of sight since their mother’s death? Phoria’s never been one to think the best of others—particularly those she sees as potential rivals. It’s a good trait in a general, but not so good between sisters. The nobility are different, Alec. Don’t ever forget that.”
“You’re a noble,” Alec teased.
“Only a very minor one, and only in the minds of Skalans. I think my people have the right idea when it comes to that. But here it comes down to heirs, and Phoria means to control that and keep it to her own father’s line.”
“Makes them sound like horse breeders,” Alec snorted, climbing under the covers.
Seregil blew out the lamp and joined him.
Alec settled his head on Seregil’s shoulder. “Still, it makes you wonder, doesn’t it, Phoria being barren and all? Why would the gods curse her?”
“A bit of bad luck for her, that’s all. And I’m sure she wouldn’t care, if she wasn’t queen.”
“Mmm. Can’t picture her as much of a mother,”
Alec agreed with a yawn.
“Some are better suited than others.” Seregil idly stroked Alec’s bare shoulder, enjoying the length of warm body pressed to his. This was one of his favorite moments of the day. Comfortable and sleepy, he spoke without thinking, as images of Alec rolling around with the children came back to him. “Do you still think about it? What the oracle told you at Sarikali?”
He regretted his careless words the instant he felt Alec go tense beside him.
“Why bring that up again?”
“They aren’t always clear in their prophecies, you know. And I still think maybe you got some of it wrong.”
Seregil’s heart sank further when Alec pulled away and settled on his back. “I’m ‘the wanderer who carries his home in his heart.’ I’m ‘the bird who makes its nest on the waves.’ I will father a child of no woman. And it’s a blessing. What part of that didn’t I understand?”
“I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.”
“Until you bring it up again.”
“I won’t!”
“Yes, you will. Just like you did last time we were at Watermead. Sometimes I think it bothers you more than it does me.”
“I just want you to be happy.”
He couldn’t see Alec in the dark, but the sigh that answered spoke volumes. “I am. Let it be.”
Easier said than done. Those uncontrolled feelings were threatening again, chasing away any hope of sleep. “You know, Alec, there’s no reason you couldn’t find some willing girl…”
“Don’t!”
Despite the dangerous edge in Alec’s tone, Seregil pressed on. “I’m just saying that it wouldn’t matter to me if you wanted to get a child on someone.”
There was a moment of truly ominous silence, then the bed lurched as Alec left it. He snatched the robe from the end of the bed and stormed out. A moment later the door of the library down the hall slammed decisively shut.
Seregil sat up, stunned. Nothing like this had ever happened between them. They’d had disagreements, certainly, and even come to blows a couple of times during the long winter days in that cabin, but Alec had never just walked away.
Seregil pulled on his own robe and went out into the corridor. No light showed under the guest chamber doors, but he suspected Micum and Kari had heard.
He found the library door locked against him. It would have been an easy matter to pick it open, but he knew better than to do such a thing. Baffled and more than a bit guilty, he slunk back to his own bed, hoping things would be better in the morning.
They weren’t. Alec came down late to breakfast, and when he did speak to Seregil, it was no more than absolutely necessary. Micum gave them both questioning looks, but it was Kari who cornered Seregil in the garden as soon as the meal was over.
“What did you do to him?” she demanded, already laying the blame at Seregil’s feet.
“Nothing!”
She fixed him with a dark look. “I love that boy as one of my own, and any fool can see he’s hurting. What did you do?”
“It was just a disagreement,” Alec informed her from the kitchen doorway. Coming over, he slipped his arm through Seregil’s. “Nothing to worry about. Right, talí?”
Seregil’s relief was short-lived. As soon as Kari was gone, Alec pulled him to the back of the garden, behind a screen of tall rosebushes. The false smile was gone. He was still fuming.
“If you ever suggest such a thing to me again, you’ll be sleeping alone a lot longer than one night!”
“I thought I was being helpful!”
“Helpful!” Alec’s eyes narrowed dangerously for a moment, but the look quickly changed to one of defeat. “You really don’t see anything wrong with telling me to bed someone else, do you? Is that what you do when you go off by yourself at night? Are you back to your old haunts on the Street of Lights?”
“Well, yes, I went there, but—”
“You didn’t!” Alec gasped.
“What? No! Just to visit, with Eirual and some friends, but not to bed them!” Seregil quickly assured him, and it was the truth. He’d hardly even been tempted.
“And that green-eyed one? Tyrien, isn’t it?”
“Well…yes. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I just didn’t think—”
“You? You didn’t think something as important as that through?”
“I’d never hurt you, talí. I haven’t touched anyone else, and I won’t!” Seregil whispered, hoping to calm him down before he was heard in the house. “You know I’ve never been with anyone I really cared for before.”
“Not with all the lovers you had?”
“Lovers in name only, Alec. A bit of fun on both sides, and nothing more.”
Alec looked sad. “I don’t see how you could have so many and not love any of them.”
Seregil hesitated, still very much on uncertain ground. Finally, he just shrugged and spoke the truth, stupid as it sounded. “I didn’t know the difference.”
Sometimes Alec’s ability to see through him was a blessing. The last of his anger faded, leaving only a trace of sadness behind. “Do you mind it very much, not being free anymore?”
“I am free, Alec. I’m with you by choice. And I promise you, this is the last time we’ll speak of any of this. I swear it, by the Light, and by my love.” Raising their joined hands to his lips, he kissed Alec’s fingers. Alec pulled him in for a real kiss, then let go and headed back to the house and their guests.
Seregil followed, his relief marred by the knowledge that nothing had really changed. Not for Alec, at least.
CHAPTER 3
Movement
THE RAIN BLEW back out overnight, and the sun shone brightly for the queen’s official Progress.
“That seems like a lucky sign,” Alec noted, looking up at the cloud-torn blue of the sky as he rode to the Temple Square with Seregil and the others.
“Yes, but for whom?” Seregil replied with a wry smile. “The same sun shines on everyone, you know.”
“Hush, someone will hear you!” Micum admonished as they passed a line of White Hawk Cavalry, known to be some of the queen’s favorites.
Seregil gave him a maddening wink, but did shut up.
They left their horses at a crowded ostler’s yard set aside for nobles and entered Temple Square on foot. Alec and his friends made their way up to the parapet of the Temple of Astellus, bundled in their embroidered cloaks. From up here the crowd gathered below looked like a colorful mosaic. The temples of the Four each gleamed against the autumn sky, squat and tall, dark and light.
The little boys were back at the house, but Illia, proudly decked out in her new pearls, was bouncing with excitement between Alec and her sister, Elsbet. The older girl was more composed, conscious of her dark initiate’s robes.
“It’s so beautiful!” Illia exclaimed, overwhelmed by the scene before them. “Elsbet, do you really live in that white temple now?”
“The initiates’ dormitories are nearby, but I study there every day,” Elsbet replied serenely.
Banners of blue and gold silk lined the square, embroidered with the silver crescent moon and flame device of Skala. The highest-ranking nobles stood in the portico of the Temple of Illior, dressed in jewels and furs, while those of lesser ranks fanned out from there. Guildsmen and merchants filled the square to capacity, held back from the steps of the Illior temple by a line of the Queen’s Household Guard.
Alec rested his elbows on the parapet, taking in the scene. “I wonder what a real triumph would look like?”
“The soldiers deserve a welcome,” Micum told him. “And the rest are just glad to get their people home for the winter.”
Lady Kylith waved to them over the heads of the crowd and made her way through to join them, arm in arm with her current love, Captain Lillia of the Golden Lion Guard. Kylith, as usual, was clad in the height of fashion. Necklines were a bit higher this year, but her blue silk gown still managed to show off a generous expanse of pale bosom below the heavy netting of jew
els that adorned her throat. More jewels sparkled brightly in her silver-streaked hair.
“Lady, how lovely you look!” Kari greeted her warmly. She wore jewels, too, but kept to the more modest fashions of the north, even after all her years in Skala. Illia excitedly showed off her new pearls.
“Sakor shows his favor for our queen, wouldn’t you agree, my lords?” Kylith remarked as she kissed Seregil and Alec in greeting.
“Lucky for her, and all of us, in these times of war, my lady.” Alec had always liked Kylith, even given her past with Seregil. Perhaps because it was hard to imagine; she looked old enough to be Seregil’s mother, while Seregil, a full-blood ’faie, probably looked as young as he had when they were lovers years ago. Whatever the case, she’d been among the first in noble society to make Alec feel welcome.
As they waited, he caught snatches of conversation on all sides as the crowd grew restless. Apparently the war was slowly turning in the Skalans’ favor as the early onset of a northern winter brought down the curtain for another year.
At last priests emerged from the four temples and processed to the center of the square. The Illiorans wore their silver masks and swung huge censers, filing the square with billows of sacred incense. The priests of Astellus carried on their shoulders a miniature ship decked with harvest bounty. Valerius, at the head of the Dalnans, led a black bull decked with wheat and pomegranates, its horns gilded silver and gold.
The priests of Sakor were the last to emerge, bearing the huge golden Aegis of Sakor on a stand. Phoria followed them, resplendent in a long-trained gown of silver and white, and a war helm and breastplate of burnished gold that gave back the sun like a mirror.
Korathan escorted her, carrying the crown of Skala on a velvet cushion. Princess Aralain walked behind him with her eldest daughter, Princess Elani. Aralain should have been the successor, in the event of Phoria’s death, but she was too soft to wield the Sword in battle.
Alec squinted in the slanting afternoon light as he tried to make out Elani’s features. At this distance he had no more than an impression of a solemn young face under a coronet and a long fall of pale hair. Leaning over to Seregil, he asked softly, “What do you know about her?”