Children of Enchantment (25 page)

“That’s what you all say.” Roderic rose restlessly and paced over to the window. The wind swirled the leaves around the trunk
of the ancient tree, and he was reminded of the storm. Involuntarily, he shivered. “So now what? Should I marry this—girl,
or whatever she is, and risk offending anyone with a marriageable daughter? What if she’s really a monster like her mother?”
He did not wait for an answer. “And now, now I must return to Ahga today or tomorrow at the latest. I’ve had a dispatch—there
was an earthshake just after the court left. The west wall of the city collapsed.”

“Earthshake?” Phineas sat back and frowned. “This is troubling. There has not been an earthshake in Ahga since the Armageddon.”

“Maybe that witch brought it on us with her Magic.” Roderic picked up the letter and folded it carefully.

“Amanander.” Phineas whispered the name, and his wrinkled face was as pale as the bleached linen pillows behind his head.

Roderic stared at the old man. “What made you think of him?” He related his conversations with Brand and Nydia. “So those
orders will go out today. We will find Amanander. He cannot have disappeared without a trace.”

“Abelard did.”

The silence in the room was suddenly charged, and Roderic felt as if a heavy hand had wrapped around his throat. “Amanander—he
had something to do with Dad’s disappearance,” he whispered. “You think so, Phineas?”

“I’m afraid to even consider the possibility.”

“Do you think he’s still alive?”

“Abelard? No.”

“But why conceal—?”

Phineas moved his head on the pillow, shifting right and left as though seeking an answer in the darkness before his eyes.
“Perhaps to throw us all off guard. With the King missing, you can’t be crowned for seven years. All the allegiances to you
are sworn in the name of the King. And if enough could be convinced that the kingdom would be better served by another … ?”
He let his voice trail off. “And it would buy Amanander time, time to find Nydia, and the girl.”

“Do you think we’ll find them?”

“I think Abelard will be found. Dead, most likely. As for Amanander—“

“If we don’t find him first, he’ll move against us all. I intend to send word to Alexander that Amanander is likely on his
way.”

“Good. But as far as the girl is concerned, Roderic, you do realize that 90 matter whether you ultimately decide to marry
her or not, you must make it clear to the entire household that she is under your personal protection.”

Roderic hesitated.

“It would be better if her identity could be concealed.”

“It’s too late for that, I’m afraid. I shall see that she is watched.”

“But you must protect her as well. Not only from Amanander. Your father may have had reasons which you might never know, and
you may not decide to accept his choice, but he would not want her treated poorly if he believed she should be your Queen.”

“When have I ever allowed anyone in this household to suffer?”

“But you are often gone and superstition is strong. How do you think the servants, the priests, will react?”

Roderic folded his mouth into a narrow line at the mention of the priests. “I see.”

“And furthermore, if Amanander is interested in her, for whatever reason, we must assume the girl needs to be protected. Have
you talked to the girl at any length?”

“No.” Roderic’s voice, even to his own ears, sounded childishly sulky.

The sunlight shone through the few wisps of Phineas’s hair and surrounded him with a golden aura. “Roderic, you’ve done well
so far and your father would be proud. Don’t allow your anger and your fear to interfere with your ability to make this decision.”

Roderic looked down at the table and was shamed. “Nydia may have been beautiful once, but she certainly isn’t now. It is hard
for me to believe this is the marriage my father would make for me.”

“Will you at least speak to the girl?”

“After I have washed and changed. But I must go to Ahga. I’ll leave her in your charge, Phineas. The servants are more afraid
of you than they are of me.” He went to the door, opened it and looked back at Phineas. “Phineas—is she your daughter? Is
she?”

Phineas turned his head in the direction of Roderic’s voice, and his shoulders shook with a suppressed sob. “Oh, my son,”
he answered in a breaking voice, “would that she were. Would that she were.”

Roderic ordered Annandale to attend him in the late afternoon when the golden spring light filtered through the brilliant
leaves and the first of summer’s warmth lingered in the air. He was not sure where he should confront her. The gardens and
the hall were too public. He knew he would feel too exposed if he took her into the forest, and he had no wish to seek her
in whatever place Peregrine had found for her.

Peregrine escorted her as the servants arrived to kindle the fire against the night’s cold. He put down the book he was pretending
to read and leaned back in his chair, trying to ignore the way his pulse had begun to pound. “Thank you,” he said to Peregrine.
“You may go.”

She threw him an angry look and flounced away with a loud swish of her skirts. He waited until the door was shut and the servants
gone, and in the interval, he looked closely at the girl who stood before him.

She wore a brown dress, clean and patched, and her dark hair was covered with a short white veil. The sleeves were too long,
the bodice ill-fitting, and the skirt ended just above her knees. Her legs were bare, and she wore heavy felt houseslippers,
such as the housemaids did. Obviously, Peregrine had not opened her coffers. And then, he remembered that he had not asked
it of her.

“Your name is Annandale.”

“Yes, Lord Prince.” Her voice was low and sweet, each word like the note of a bell.

“Look at me.” She raised her head and he felt a leap in his chest at the sight of that extraordinary face. Some part of him
had said he was mistaken: that her beauty was a trick of the witch or a fool of firelight—but with the sunlight streaming
full across her face, there could be no doubt.

Her mouth was neither full, nor thin; her nose neither long nor short. Her chin had the shadow of a cleft, her cheekbones
high and round. Her eyebrows were dark and arched over her blue eyes—eyes as blue as the Northern Sea on a clear day. Her
skin was smooth and tinted with a hint of rose.

It was a face so beautiful that looking at her was a pleasure to be savored, like that of a rare jewel or a good meal, or
a harp perfectly tuned. He literally had to tear his eyes away.

“Your mother expects me to marry you.”

She dropped her eyes and a deeper pink stained her face. “Yes.”

He was growing more and more uncomfortable. “I’ll be brief. I’ve not decided what I’ll do with you. You will stay here with
the rest of the court, and when it is time, you will accompany us to Ahga. It is the seat of the Ridenau Kings— my family
has ruled in Ahga for hundreds of years, long before Meriga was united. I leave tomorrow: I do not expect to see you again
for some time.”

“As you say, Lord Prince.”

He was amused and somehow touched at that answer. “Who taught you to say that?”

“Lady Peregrine said that was the proper response to any request you might make of me.”

“Did she give you those clothes?”

“No, Lord Prince.”

“Who did?”

“The chief cook.”

“Why the cook?”

“It is where Lady Peregrine placed me to serve.”

“Oh, she did? Indeed.” He would speak with Peregrine. “You have been in the kitchens, then, this day?”

“Yes, Lord Prince.”

“Doing what?”

“Peeling potatoes.”

“Potatoes? Let me see your hands.” She held out two small, white hands, tipped with short, rosy nails. The skin was soft and
supple. “You don’t look as if you’ve ever peeled a potato in your life.”

She met his eyes, and he saw a flicker of humor in her eyes. “I have peeled more potatoes in my life than you have in yours,
Lord Prince.”

“Have you? And what else have you done?”

“Whatever my mother required of me.”

“And what was that? Stealing dying children?” He meant to be amusing, but tears came to her eyes and she looked away.

“It wasn’t like that, Lord Prince. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He cleared his throat. “I shall speak with Peregrine. I don’t want a prospective bride peeling potatoes.”

“Prospective bride?”

“I have not ruled out the possibility of doing what your mother wished. But I must consider the effect such a marriage might
have on the entire kingdom.”

“I understand, Lord Prince.”

There was a long silence while she looked around the room and he looked at her. “One more thing.

“You may be in a difficult position. The old legends about the Magic, the Armageddon, are often repeated among the castle
servants, and they believe them. It is possible that there are some here who will be afraid of you.” He realized as he said
it that he was half afraid of her. “And because of that, try to do you harm. I want you to know—” He cleared his throat, and
began again. “You may appeal directly to me if you should have any kind of trouble with the rest of the household.” She smiled
at him and he took a deep breath. He had not felt so tongue-tied with a woman since he was fifteen.

“Thank you, Lord Prince.”

“Here, take this.” He handed her a silver ring which had been the Queen’s. It had lain in his trunk for as long as he could
remember, and it was poorly made and insignificant. The stone was a small white pearl. “This is not a bridegift, or a token
of a promise. Do not assume anything by this. But I am often away, and if it should happen that you are in some danger, send
this. And I shall come. You may go.”

For a moment she stared at him, and he was surprised. He had expected her to obey him, unquestioningly, as did everyone else
in the household. “Is there something wrong?” he asked at last.

“You may not wish to marry me, Lord Prince, and that may well be your decision to make. But believe me when I tell you you
ignore my mother’s warning at your peril.” She dropped a graceful curtsy, as practiced as any of the ladies of the court.
“Thank you, Lord Prince. We shall see what kind of protection this brings.” Clutching the ring, she moved toward the door.

Shocked, he could only stare. As she opened the door, he managed her name. “Annandale.”

“Lord Prince?”

“We shall speak again.”

“As you say, Lord Prince.” She bowed her head and was gone. He unclenched his fists and forced himself to take a deep breath.
He called for Peregrine, and when she came, he was sorting his papers into a pack.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going back to Ahga tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“There’s been an earthshake in Ahga, Peregrine. Don’t worry. I’ll be back as soon as I can. I must see about any leftover
business from the Convening as well. It is a bit early for us to be here. Have you forgotten?”

“No, of course not. Are you angry with me, Roderic?”

He did not answer the question. “And another thing, Peregrine. Get that girl out of the kitchens. She’s no scullery maid.”

“Well, what is she, then?”

“Did you ask her?”

“I asked her what she could do, and she said she was willing to do whatever needed doing. Cook was complaining that one of
the maids ran off, and another had a bad burn and couldn’t work, so I put her where I thought we needed her. Have I done wrong?”
She looked at him defiantly.

He softened. Nothing would be accomplished by antagonizing Peregrine. “Can’t you have her with the women who tend to Tavia?”

She dropped her eyes and swallowed. “I—I could.”

He turned back to the desk and shook his head. “Have you looked at her?” He stared off into space, seeing again that unearthly
face.

“Of course I’ve looked at her.”

“And what do you think?” He was looking at the desk and did not see her throw the book. It hit him squarely on the back of
the head and fell in a flutter to the floor.

“Just like a man!” Peregrine had tears in her eyes and her face was red. “You all think with your cocks and balls and never
with your brains. Just because she’s beautiful—“

He drew her into his arms and held her while she sobbed against his chest. “In that case, I think about you a lot.”

“Don’t try your charm on me!”

“Peregrine, I know this isn’t easy. But I expect you to treat this girl like a guest. Do you understand?” He hugged her tightly.

“I’m sorry I hit you with the book.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Can we talk about Annandale?”

“If we must.”

“I want you to watch her closely. Keep her under your personal supervision as much as you can. And you must watch the household
as well. Let me know if you see or hear anything.”

“Like what?”

“The girl may do us harm. And she may be in some danger herself. There’s always the servants. They may carry tales to the
priests. My father had enough trouble with the Bishop of Ahga. And I have concerns about the household, too.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Come to me immediately. I have told the girl to come to me as well. I want it made clear that I will deal harshly with anyone
who threatens her unprovoked.”

“I see.”

“All right?”

“Roderic, I knew you would marry someday. It isn’t that I’m jealous—it’s just that she—I thought you would take as your bride
the daughter of some great Senador—“

“Why do you talk as if I had made up my mind? I know nothing about this girl—almost nothing, at any rate. And I don’t like
what I do know. This is not a decision I will make quickly, or lightly, or—” and he thrust his hips against hers “—in bed.”

She pulled away. “I will make the arrangements for you for tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you—do you want my company tonight?”

“Bring me a tray for dinner. I want to go to bed early tonight—I leave at dawn.”

“As you say.” She smiled and he was glad to see her dimples.

“Peregrine?”

She paused in the door.