Reader and Raelynx (11 page)

“Oh, because you’re so weak and useless to us now,” Justin said.

But Senneth was nodding. “Good idea.”

“You’ll like Jerril,” Cammon said to Ellynor, who did look just a bit nervous. “He couldn’t be nicer.”

“Not like the lot of us, you mean,” Kirra said lazily. “Unprincipled and ruthless.”

“Sounds about right,” Justin said with a grin.

“The problem remains,” Tayse said, “finding a way to make sure none of Ellynor’s friends and cousins—or enemies and uncles—can come stealing into the palace completely undetected. I hardly think we can expect Donnal to spend the remaining days of his life prowling these few acres and trying to scent out trouble.”

“Why can’t we use real dogs?” Justin said. “
Specifically
on the watch for someone trying to enter the gate by stealth?”

Tayse nodded. “We could do that. The head groom at the royal stables knows an animal trainer. We could work with him.”

Senneth glanced at Kirra. “And maybe we could supplement the real dogs with some enchanted ones,” she said. “I’ve been thinking it’s time to recruit more mystics.”

Kirra straightened in her chair. “Carrebos!” she exclaimed. “We can see who’s on hand there.”

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” Justin said.

“City not far from Fortunalt lands that apparently has become a community of mystics,” Senneth said. “Maybe some of them would like to come work for the king.”

Tayse looked intrigued. For a man who had distrusted magic for most of his life, he had become awfully willing to turn it to his advantage. “You think there might be shape-shifters among them? That would make an interesting contingent to add to the king’s troops.”

Senneth shrugged. “Won’t know till we go investigate. I thought Kirra and I could head down there in a few days and see what we might find.” Donnal barked sharply. “Donnal would come with us, of course,” Senneth added.

Tayse gave her a quick smile, private despite the fact that five other people could witness it. “So would I,” he said.
Because I intend to never be parted from you again
.

Kirra made a tiny cooing sound, but even that didn’t keep the slow shiver from tickling down Senneth’s spine. “So would you,” she agreed softly.
Because I could not bear it if you were
.

I
F
Cammon had had to describe his emotional state during the next week, he would have called it sublimely content. Justin was back—the others had not yet departed—Amalie wanted to see him every morning—and Jerril was coming to the palace to practice magic. Nothing was missing from his life; every ingredient that he considered essential was solidly in place.

Three more suitors arrived that week, so Cammon had little chance for private conversation with Amalie. Instead, he and Valri and assorted Riders spent an aggregate of hours lurking behind the false walls and eavesdropping on three varieties of wooing. This should have been tedious in the extreme, but somehow it was not. Valri had had a couple of chairs and a small table hauled in, all of them just narrow enough to fit in the secret corridor, and she and Cammon sat there during every interview and silently played cards. When part of the conversation caught their attention, they would look up from their game and either laugh silently, or show their surprise, or roll their eyes and grimace in distaste. This made the hours pass in an entertaining fashion and kept Cammon from thinking too hard about the cold reality underlying the whole exercise: The princess was trying to pick her husband. He didn’t know why he so much disliked the idea of her getting married.

One reason, perhaps, was that none of the latest crop of beaux seemed remotely worthy of her. The first one was quite young, rather tongue-tied, and extremely nervous. Amalie was gentle with him, but Cammon didn’t need her critique afterward to know she had not considered him appealing. The second was older, very polished, and superficially agreeable, but Cammon found something about him to be repulsive. Maybe it was that Cammon sensed cold calculation in his admiring compliments and honeyed phrases. Maybe it was that Amalie laughed a great deal during their extended and playful conversation.

“You seemed to enjoy your visit with the Tilt lord,” Valri remarked once the suitor had gone off to change for dinner.

“He’s a toad,” Amalie said calmly. “He kept looking around the room as if wondering what it would be like to own the whole palace. And looking at me like—well. Like he was wondering what it would be like to own
me.
”

Valri seemed amused. “You’ve become rather an expert at concealing what you’re thinking, then. I couldn’t tell you disliked him.”

“I find it easier to pretend when I
don’t
like someone,” she said. “I might be more nervous when I do.”

She was not nervous in the presence of the third suitor, a Nocklyn man old enough to be her father. The noble had seated himself, accepted a glass of wine, and traded trivialities for a few moments before he broke off his speech with a laugh.

“I cannot believe a nineteen-year-old girl looks at me and sees a potential husband,” he said. “I am here because Mayva Nocklyn asked me to make a case for myself, not because I expect to win your hand. So let me enumerate all the advantages of my rank and station, and you can listen politely. Once that is all out of the way, we can talk of other things. I imagine that will be a much more pleasant way to pass the day.”

There was a smile in Amalie’s voice. “I imagine it will.”

Valri, who had been contemplating her discard when the lord started speaking, paused long enough to listen to this little interchange. Now she glanced at Cammon with her eyebrows raised, as if to ask,
Is he sincere?
Cammon, whose own hand was unplayable, nodded back. There was no lust for power, no lust for a young girl’s body, hovering over this middle-aged swain. Cammon saw Valri’s face sharpen with interest; she started weighing the advantages of an unpretentious, settled older man who treated his young bride with kindness.

Cammon frowned at her and mouthed,
Too old.
Valri shrugged and pointed at herself.
Look at me,
she meant, married to a man in his sixties. Cammon’s frown grew more pronounced.
Different,
he said silently. She gave a half-smile and shook her head.
Not really.
Cammon disagreed, but it was impossible to explain why, given the circumstances.

Amalie seemed to be enjoying her conversation with the amiable Nocklyn lord, which didn’t particularly cheer Cammon. The visitor was describing the crops his lands yielded and the markets where he sold them.

“Do you trade with foreign merchants?” she asked, as if she was really interested.

“Sometimes with Sovenfeld,” he answered. “I’ve been looking toward Arberharst, but I’m not sure what they produce there that would be worth the exchange.”

Honey spice,
Cammon thought, imagining those great fields heavy with bright red flowers.

“Honey spice, perhaps?” Amalie said in the most natural voice.

Cammon laid down his cards and stared at the partition as if he could see right through it. Did she know that? Or had she picked up the thought in his head? Valri looked at him curiously, but he was too focused on the dialogue on the other side of the screen to glance in her direction.

“I’ve heard of it,” the Nocklyn man admitted, “but never tasted it. What’s it like?”

Amalie hesitated for a second. Cammon thought,
Richer than cinnamon, and a little rougher.
Amalie said, “It’s a little like cinnamon, but the flavor is a bit stronger.”

Cammon felt his hands contract into fists.

“So, it’s used in baking? Sweets and pastries, that sort of thing?”

And some meat dishes like chicken.

“I believe some people also use it when they’re cooking poultry.”

“Might be a market for it in the four corners,” the Nocklyn man said. Fortunalt, Gisseltess, Brassenthwaite, and Danalustrous were the four Houses on the “corners” of Gillengaria and widely regarded as the most sophisticated of the Twelve.

You can buy it in Ghosenhall,
Cammon thought,
but it’s expensive.

“There are a few specialty shops here in the city that carry it, I believe,” Amalie said. “If you wanted to try it. You might ask them where they get their supplies and if they would be interested in another source.”

There was a smile in the man’s voice. “I’ll do that—if I decide I want to expand my trading circle over the ocean.”

“My father likes the idea of more foreign commerce,” Amalie said, and they were off on a topic that she knew better than Cammon did. He took a deep breath, relaxed his shoulders, and turned to look at Valri again.

The queen was watching him closely, her green eyes narrowed to slits. She did not look happy. He wasn’t sure what to tell her. But it was clear that, no matter what kind of magic Valri was conjuring to keep Amalie safe, it only worked in one direction. Amalie’s thoughts and emotions might be cloaked from the world, hidden so expertly that even a reader like Cammon could not uncover them. But he could communicate with her. He could cast his magic like a net and let it settle invisibly over her shining hair—and Amalie welcomed its arrival, tilted back her head as if to absorb it through her skin. He wasn’t sure which Valri would find more alarming—that Amalie was susceptible to enchantment, or that she delighted in it.

The instant Amalie accompanied the Nocklyn lord out of the room and the door shut behind them, Valri clutched Cammon’s arm. “What did you do?” she demanded. “Were you putting thoughts in her mind? How can you do that?”

He didn’t know how to play this. “I’m not exactly sure,” he said cautiously. “She did seem to be picking up on some of the things I was thinking.”

Valri shook his arm. “You shouldn’t be able to do that. She shouldn’t be able to hear you.”

“Well—”

The door opened again, and Amalie came bouncing through the concealed opening into their secret corridor. “Cammon!” she exclaimed. “That was so much fun! I could
hear
you!”

Valri’s face grew even more set. “Hear him? How, exactly?”

“It was as if he was standing right beside me, talking in a normal tone of voice,” Amalie said blithely, while Valri’s expression grew blacker. “But I knew he was speaking just to me.”

Just then, the two Riders came around the corner of the narrow corridor. There were too many of them bunched inside this tiny space; it was beginning to feel ridiculous. “Majesty, do you have further need of us?” one of them asked.

Valri waved a dismissive hand. “No, thank you, you may go.” They bowed, retraced their steps, and disappeared. Valri said, “We need to discuss this. Come back to the parlor with us.”

Amalie led the way out, but spoke over her shoulder. “Discuss it? Why? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t like the notion that people can just—just—put thoughts in your head! Convince you to say any kind of crazy thing!”

Amalie laughed. “Valri, it’s
Cammon
,” she said. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

And as they paraded down the gilt hallways to Amalie’s favorite room, Cammon had time to reflect on that. Was that a compliment of the highest order, or the worst possible insult?

Inside the rose-and-cream parlor, Valri turned to face the other two as if they were erring children and she a wrathful parent. But Cammon thought her expression owed more to fear than fury, and he lost the irritation that had built up along the way.

“Amalie, it disturbs me that you are open to magic—anyone’s magic—even someone as benign as Cammon,” she said. “It is what I have given so much of my life to protect you from.”

“I can’t hear her thoughts, if that’s what concerns you,” Cammon said. “She’s still cloaked in whatever spell you’ve put on her.”

“That’s a relief, but only a small one,” Valri retorted. “I want her immune from magic. I don’t want it to touch her at all.”

“Is that what you’ve been protecting her from all this time?” he asked curiously. “Why did you allow Senneth to accompany her last summer, then? Senneth used fire more than once to keep Amalie safe, and you didn’t seem worried then.”

“
Princess
Amalie,” Valri said sharply.

Cammon felt like he had been slapped. “Princess Amalie,” he corrected himself after a moment. “She has been touched by magic more than once already.”

Amalie cast him a sympathetic glance but came close enough to put an arm around Valri’s shoulders. Amalie was not particularly tall, but she still was bigger than the queen, and she bent her bright head over Valri’s dark one as if to offer desperately needed solace. “Valri—don’t worry—I just heard a few words he spoke,” Amalie said. “Cammon’s voice. As if we were talking. Nothing more frightening than that.”

Valri was shaking her head, quick little hopeless motions. “It’s all frightening,” she said. “And it’s only going to get worse.”

Amalie glanced at Cammon again over the top of Valri’s head. “Maybe I should take myself off for the rest of the day,” he said.

“That might be best,” Amalie said gravely, but her eyes asked for another favor.

Carefully, in case he had misunderstood, he sent a tentative question her way.
Are you angry with me?
A small smile crossed her face. She hugged Valri more tightly to her and shook her head in the negative.
Can we talk about this more later?
Her smile broadened and she nodded.

So it was with a relatively light heart that he left the room, though it had been such a strange afternoon.

H
E
repeated the entire story that night to the others as they gathered in Senneth and Tayse’s cottage after the evening meal.

“I don’t know what she’s so upset about,” Kirra said, unimpressed. “Cammon can make
anyone
hear him. Over great distances. Why is that so terrible? I would think it would be useful, actually, to have a way to communicate with the princess without anyone being able to overhear.”

“Valri’s afraid of magic,” Senneth said.

“No, she isn’t,” Cammon objected. “Last summer, she was happy enough to have all of us guarding the princess on the road! Donnal took owl form and sat outside Amalie’s window almost every night. Valri wasn’t afraid then!”

“Maybe she’s just afraid of
you
,” Justin said with his usual sarcasm. “You’re the one
I’d
pick if I had to be afraid of a mystic.”

“People don’t like the idea that someone else can be inside their minds,” Donnal said. “I’m not sure I’d like it, either, if it wasn’t Cammon. Someone I trusted.”

“Yes, but she
does
trust me.”

“I’m not sure a princess can ever trust anyone that much,” Donnal said.

“Donnal’s right,” Senneth said. “All the rules are different with Amalie.”

Princess Amalie,
Cammon thought with some bitterness.

“I have an idea,” Kirra said, eyes sparkling. “You say you can’t pick up anything from Valri—can you send
her
thoughts? Maybe if she hears your voice inside her
own
head she’ll realize how unalarming you are, and she’ll relax.”

This was clearly designed to be nothing more than mischief. Tayse gave her a reproving look and said, “I think Cammon has other kinds of magic to spend his energy on. Have you and Donnal had time to work with Ellynor to try and penetrate her shadows?”

“Not yet. Amalie has needed me every day. But Jerril comes tomorrow and we’ll practice then.”

Kirra said, “I want to watch this.”

Tayse looked amused. “Good. All of you. Work out with your magical weapons the way the Riders work out with their blades.”

Senneth sighed elaborately. “If only it were that easy.”

T
HE
following day was sunny and extremely cold—except where all the mystics had gathered, in a neglected garden overgrown with rustling brown winter vegetation. Kirra, who had been complaining loudly about the chill during the whole walk from the cottage, now pulled off her cloak and threw it dramatically to the ground.