Two days later, he arrived with the most unexpected companion in tow.
It was shortly after dinner, and all of us had withdrawn to the salon to hear some of the musical selections Greta and Elisandra had chosen for the wedding ceremony. When I say “all of us,” I mean the fifteen or so people most nearly involved in the event: the bride, her mother, Bryan, Matthew, Kent, me, Angela and her mother, Cressida, Andrew, the four musicians, and the prince’s personal guard. Matthew, Greta, and the bridal couple stood up near the musician’s dais, critically listening to the musicians, while Angela’s mother and Cressida discussed seating arrangements. Angela and I amused ourselves by parading up and down the narrow aisles between the chairs, dancing more energetically than the music would suggest. Kent came over twice to tell us to be quiet, but we ignored him. Roderick stood with his back against the wall and kept his eyes fixed on Bryan.
Into this domestic scene came Jaxon, strolling in with the queen of the aliora on his arm.
I’m sure there was not instant silence, for it took a while to catch Matthew’s attention, and the musicians played a few more bars before they realized there was something odd about the quality of the silence in the room. But to me it seemed like all the noise in the world came to an abrupt halt the minute I saw Rowena of Alora step inside the door. Maybe it was the absolute stillness of Andrew and Cressida that seemed to shout silence in my ears; maybe my own astonishment erased all sound from the room. But I looked up and saw her, and everything else disappeared.
She looked exactly as she had that night four years ago in the wood by Faelyn River. Her skin was so white that, even in this candlelit room, it glowed with its own radiance; her thick black hair fell about her shoulders like a shawl. The air shimmered with her luminosity, waves of light so visible they reverberated off the walls and broke in shattered reflections over her dark head. As before, she was dressed in some opalescent gown that seemed to drape her in glitter. Her narrow, insubstantial hand rested on Jaxon’s so lightly that she appeared merely to brush the fabric of his coat; her feet did not touch the floor.
Everyone in the room was staring at her, and no one said a word.
Jaxon glanced around at the lot of us, openmouthed and stupid, and burst into laughter. “I didn’t know the sight of me would actually turn you all to stone,” he said. “You’ve seen me walk in here before with an aliora on my arm.”
“None quite so fair, though, I believe,” said Matthew, the first to recover use of his voice. “All of us have heard reports of this one.”
“No doubt you have,” Jaxon said, and put his free hand over the queen’s where it rested on his arm. “For she is the gift and royal treasure of Alora.”
He spoke proudly—dotingly—as a man besotted. All the conversations of the previous days rushed back through my head. He had taken the queen of Alora prisoner—or perhaps she had ensorceled him. Who had bewitched whom? Why was she here? Was she the author of the changes that had been hinted at for months? I could not think how to frame the questions.
Matthew took a step nearer the new arrivals, though everyone else seemed rooted to the spot. Indeed, Cressida and Andrew, on opposite sides of the room, had fallen to their knees and had fixed their eyes on Rowena. They looked amazed, uncertain, terrified. Even less than I did they know what her presence signified.
“May I be permitted to know her name?” Matthew asked. “And why you have brought her here?”
“Her name is too strange and beautiful for you to pronounce,” Jaxon said, still in that proud, elated voice, “but among humans, she is called Rowena.”
“Rowena, queen of Alora,” Matthew said. He had come close enough to extend his arm as if to touch the new arrival. “Will you take my hand?”
Jaxon gently but unmistakably pulled the aliora a step backward. “Strip away your rings,” my uncle said. “The touch of metal pains her.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Cressida start and Andrew scramble up from his kneeling position. They had thought she had come here in shackles, as they had; but she was here of her own free will.
Matthew did not demur. He pulled his three heavy rings from his fingers and dropped them in a vest pocket. This time, when he extended his hand, Rowena laid her own in his palm. An indescribable look crossed the regent’s face, and I knew exactly what he was feeling—that jolt of magic and longing that emanated from the skin of the untamed aliora.
“Welcome to Castle Auburn,” Matthew said, bowing over her hand. “Do you stay long?”
Everyone in the room stopped breathing in order to hear her speak. “The length of our stay depends upon Jaxon’s wishes,” she replied, her speech formal yet lilting, mannered and yet somehow wild, as if she spoke with the river’s voice, or the rainstorm’s. “He is my guide for this portion of my journey.”
“We have come for my niece’s wedding,” Jaxon said. “Though we may not stay for the ceremony itself. Great crowds of people do not make for easy company for my bride.”
“Your bride,” someone yelped (I thought it was Greta), and then there was silence no longer. Everyone was speaking. Everyone pressed closer to the newlywed couple—though no one came close enough to touch. I saw Andrew and Cressida stare at each other across the room, doubt, hope, and horror in their faces. I did not move, did not speak, could not think. Stupefaction had rendered me immobile.
Matthew held his hands out for silence, and there was quiet, more or less, in the room. “This is most unexpected news,” the regent said, and for the life of him he could not sound entirely happy. “I had never expected to see Jaxon Halsing wed.”
My uncle gave his usual, sonorous laugh. “No, and neither did Jaxon Halsing! We have performed only one of the ceremonies that will bind us together till death, for we stopped on our way at a chapel in Tregonia. We must go to Alora to speak a second set of vows.” He laughed again and pointed at Elisandra, who had circled through the crowd to come stand on his right. “A tedious business, all this swearing and promising, as you’re about to find out, my girl. But I discovered I did not mind it so much once the day actually dawned. I spoke the words, every one, and not a single syllable choked me coming out.”
A few people laughed at this sally. Elisandra merely smiled, but she put her arms around Jaxon’s neck. “I am so glad for you,” she said against his cheek. “May the happiness of the world pour over your soul.”
He kissed her soundly and held her against him in a ferocious hug. When she pulled away, she was smiling, and she was tugging her rings and bracelets from her hands.
“Hold these,” she said to Kent, who stood directly behind her, and then she placed her arms with infinite care around Rowena’s frail shoulders. I saw my sister close her eyes and sway forward, struck by the same violent gorgeousness that had taken Matthew by surprise, and then she released the aliora and stepped back. “I am Elisandra,” she said.
“You are as beautiful as your uncle has told me,” Rowena said. “May your own marriage make you as happy as mine has made me.”
Kent came forward next, his jewels already pocketed, his greeting formal. One by one the others made their obeisances to the aliora queen, all of them quickly laying their jewelry aside and making awkward curtseys to the new bride. She was unfailingly gracious, though she made only polite, meaningless conversation, and I sensed in her a terrific sense of strain. This was an alien place to her, and rife with hazards. Every room in the castle held metal of some sort—armor, furnishings, cutlery, sculpture—and that in itself could unsettle and even harm her. But there was more. Her own people were here enslaved; anyone in the castle might form the desire of capturing her for personal gain; and she had just tied herself for life to the man who had caused her folk their most severe suffering. I was not surprised to see that her chest rapidly rose and fell in a troubled, half-panicked motion; I was more surprised she was able to breathe at all.
Bryan was one of the last to greet her. It seemed to me he would have avoided the gesture altogether except t
hat Matthew urged him forward. He did not bother to remove all his jewelry, as the others had, just took off the ring on his right hand and held it carelessly in his left. “Welcome, of course,” he said, and dropped her hand immediately and stalked away. Kent and Matthew looked after him. No one else appeared to notice.
I was the very last human to offer my congratulations to my uncle and his new bride. I seldom wore more jewelry than the gold necklace Elisandra had given me, so I did not have much to worry about as I stepped up to the queen of the aliora and made a little curtsey. But I did not reach out my hand right away; I took a moment to study her face. She had a fey, shifting beauty that made it hard to chart the curves and angles of her cheekbones. Her eyes were deep and changing, even while I watched, darkening to black and lightening to gray. I knew once I touched her I would not be able to form a coherent sentence. I spoke before I could think the words over too many times.
“I’m not sure I understand why you married my uncle,” I said. “For he has caused you a great deal of grief.”
Then she smiled, the first time that particular light had broken over Castle Auburn, and everyone in the room gasped at the luster that bathed her face. “And you must be Corie,” she said. “You, too, have been described to me.”
“Why did you marry him?” I asked again.
I heard Matthew’s admonishing voice speak my name, and someone (Kent, I thought) laid a hand upon my arm. I shook him off. Rowena was still smiling; the room was so bright we all had to squint to keep staring at her.
“We struck a bargain,” she said. “I would marry him, and he would never sell another aliora into slavery. It was a bargain I was happy to make.”
“You should never marry,” I said, “except for love.”
Now she laughed, and the world rocked back; the silver echoes drifted around our heads for the next few minutes. She reached out a spidery hand to brush my cheek and I felt the shock lance through me, bone to bone. “You should never marry without good reason,” she amended. “Love is only one of those reasons.”
But she had touched me and now I could not answer; I could not speak; I could not think. I wanted desperately to follow her from the room, down the great stone stairs that led out of the castle, through the guarded gates, and down the long, weary road to the edge of Alora itself. I could feel the green touch of the oak leaves against my skin, I could hear the indecipherable music of the river in my head. All around me were forest scents, earth aromas, the rustle and call of leaf and bird and wild cat. All I could see was Rowena’s face.
“My wish for you is that you marry for love or not at all,” she said, and though she spoke in a perfectly reasonable voice, I knew without question that I was the only one who could hear her. “But I do not have the power of bestowing that happiness upon you. One gift I can offer you, however.”
I found, unexpectedly, that I could reply. “What is that?”
“A chance to visit Alora. I would be happy to have you come as my guest.”
My own smile came, less luminous than hers, but genuine nonetheless. “And never leave again? I have heard stories of your hospitality.”
“Sample it before you refuse me out of hand.”
“Perhaps I will someday. When there is nothing left in my own world that pleases me.”
“Then you will never visit, for you are a girl who will always find pleasure in something.”
That comment gratified me more than anything else she could have said. I felt like I had been dealt a golden blessing, that I would henceforth walk the earth with a faint, ineradicable glow. “I wish I could give you something,” I heard myself say.
“There is nothing I lack,” she said. “But I would not scorn the good wishes of a wise woman and a friend.”
“Then you have those,” I said.
She leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. For a moment, my mind blanked completely; it was as if a thunderclap had, for that second, obliterated the room. Then she stepped back and everything readjusted in one quick, somewhat sickening jerk of reality. The room seemed dim and ordinary, and my balance was precarious; I stumbled a little as I stepped away.
Matthew clapped his hands, and the whole room snapped to attention. “Very well! We are done here for the evening. Bryan, you and Kent will attend me in my study—we have much to discuss with Jaxon. Cressida, you will make the queen comfortable in Jaxon’s quarters. Greta, tomorrow morning we will meet to go over the final lists. Thank all of you for your time.”
And with these peremptory directions, we were all dismissed. Angela had caught my arm and was literally towing me from the room, but I hung back as much as I dared, wanting to witness the reunion of Cressida and Andrew with their beloved queen. I got a chance to see very little. They had crossed the room to her side, and she had put out a hand to each of them, and they stood that way, unmoving and mute, for as long as I was able to watch. But the expressions on the faces of the aliora I knew were a cross between rapture and terror, and I knew that her touch was undoing them as it had undone me. What gifts was she offering them, I wondered, what seductive promises, what messages of hope?
She had made it clear why she had married Jaxon, but there had been no need to ask him the question in turn. He adored her; she had bewitched him. He would not, till the day he died, regret his bargain.
13
The queen of Alora stayed for three days at Castle Auburn and caused a silver disruption wherever she went. She could not walk into a room or sit down at a table or even make the smallest gesture with her hand that did not cause the air around her to ripple with an invisible heat. Wherever she was, people stared at her; they tried, in transparently nonchalant ways, to edge closer to her, brush against her, find some excuse for addressing her with the most banal comment. She was unfailingly courteous, eternally smiling, a thing of seduction and beauty, and more than once I wondered how many denizens of the castle would be discovered missing once her visit had ended. She engendered in everyone she met a fierce, impossible desire to journey to Alora, there to stay till the end of the world.
I tried without success to learn what the castle aliora thought of Rowena’s appearance here. Andrew would not even let me cross the threshold into the aliora quarters. (“We are all confused and unnerved here, Corie. Let us be.”) Cressida, who still appeared every morning to help me with my toilette, had grown ferociously silent, but the strain of some difficult emotion was making her very bones seem shrunken and brittle under her flesh.
“So, what does this mean? What do you think?” I asked her for the hundredth time the morning of Rowena’s third day in the castle. “Is this a good thing for the aliora? If Uncle Jaxon no longer hunts them—”
“Your uncle is a difficult man for the aliora to trust,” Cressida said quietly. “Who knows if he will keep his word?”
“He will. He loves her.”
“Love fades.”
“Then Alora itself will win him over. They say it is a magical place.”
“He has been to Alora before and not been gentled.”
I tried to catch a glimpse of her face in the mirror, but she had her head down, and her thin hair fell across her cheekbones. “He is a good man in so many ways,” I said. “He will be kind to her.”
“Perhaps that is what he intends.”
“You are afraid for her,” I said.
“I am afraid for all of us,” she said on a long, shivering sigh so breathy that I almost could not make out the words. “If the queen succumbs to men, what hope is there for any of us to be free?”
I turned in my chair to face her. Long strands of my hair, which she had been braiding, slipped out of her hands. “But if she has given herself to him to save the rest of her people, isn’t that cause enough for hope?”
She placed her hands on either side of my face and turned me back toward the mirror. “There is still slavery. There is still grief, and the world still goes on,” she said sadly. “You are too young to understand that the promises of the futur
e cannot undo the harm of the past.”
Only then did I realize that she—that they—that all aliora had somehow believed that while Rowena was queen, they had some hope. They had believed that she would find a way, through seduction or magic, to release them. The bargain she had struck might protect those still living in Alora, but it did nothing to redeem the souls already in captivity. There were no retroactive contracts.
“Cressida—” I said, but I could not complete a sentence of comfort. Her hands came around and pressed over my mouth, shutting out the words I could not summon anyway. What flaw was it in my own heart that made me react to that touch as I always did, drawing strength and solace from the one who needed it even more from me?
THAT EVENING WAS to be a formal celebration of Jaxon’s wedding. It had taken Matthew three days to put together a suitable guest list so close to the major event of the summer, but he had invited the highest nobles of Auburn to dine at the castle and extend their respects to the newest member of the Halsing clan. It was not a royal wedding, after all; it did not require the attendance of all the viceroys and their families. It was an Auburn event, and Auburn would observe the honors.
Naturally the evening started with a fabulous feast, course after course of the finest local food. I was amazed to see that one of the dishes offered was a fruit compote laced with dayig. I was sure Jaxon had requested it, but I was impressed that Matthew had had the resources, in such a short time, to harvest enough for a serving and find someone who knew how to cook it. Still, it was a foreign dish at the castle table, and several of the diners looked at it askance. Not me. I ate every bite and then took a second helping.
I assumed, of course, that all the seeds and poisons had been filtered out. But since my grandmother had scoffed at the hazards offered by the dayig, I was not too worried. Surreptitiously I watched the head table. Kent, too, had double portions of the fruit dish; but neither Damien nor Bryan took a single bite.