Sterling (16 page)

“Sterling, Sterling.”

I kicked. “Stop saying my name.”

“I love your name. I love the way it moves my tongue. I want to move my tongue with the sound of your name against you, here.” He blew a hot breath between my legs.

I didn’t know what to make of such an idea, though it brought to mind the scene I’d witnessed in Engashta. Erich’s hands slid beneath my hips, pulling me into his kiss.

So many sensations whiplashed me: pleasure, anticipation, dismay, uncertainty. I wanted whatever he offered—though could a mouse want the cat that hunted it? Erich moved himself into me, smoothly, his exhale deep and satiating.

I gasped as he fulfilled the promise his body had made to mine. I lost myself in it, my limbs melting. I opened for him. I could have stayed there forever, his body a blanket that shrouded me from the world.

E
ven though I
knew it had not been a dream—those sensations were too far beyond imagination or experience—I’d not expected him to stay with me through the night.

Yet I woke the following morning with one gleaming, perfect arm thrown carelessly over my chest. He had unbound me. I ran my hand along his forearm, softly, to avoid waking him.

I wanted to be the girl in this bed forever. She had no name and no mark. She had pleasure and power. Erich Talata wanted her.

I sighed, rolled to my back, and pushed aside the coverlet and Erich’s arm. By the time I had laced my dress, Erich was sitting up. Dear gods, how could anyone look so fine first thing in the morning? How unjust, that the gods should have given a man such a face as his and a woman one like mine. It was almost enough to make me question my faith in them.

“What are you doing?” Erich asked.

“Getting dressed.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s morning.”

“Come back here,” he said. “We’ll have them bring up breakfast.” He leaned against the pillows.

I could think of no good reason he should loll about in bed with me this morning. No reason at all. He should be the one encouraging me to get dressed so he could herd me to the Crystal Palace before Costas headed east.

According to my best plan, keeping Erich well occupied for as long as possible should be
my
goal.

“You’re going to give yourself wrinkles if you keeping scrunching your forehead that way,” Erich commented. “Since you’re up, pull the bell.” He gestured to the nook by the door. I smoothed my forehead and complied.

The butler must have been waiting right outside the door.

“Tea and toast, please,” Erich ordered. After his man departed, Erich patted the bed beside him. “Enjoy a few quiet minutes with me, Sterling. It’s going to be a busy couple of days.”

Something inside me crumpled at his smile. I wanted to cry. I wanted to tuck my head into my arms and pull my hair. I couldn’t take the confusion anymore. Nothing was fair; nothing had ever been fair.

I threw myself onto the bed, grabbed a pillow, and hid my face. I hated for Eric to see the mess of my cosmetic that likely only half-hid my mark after sleep. I pounded my fist into the pillow instead of screaming.

Erich placed a hand on my neck, then in my hair, and then finally grabbed my wrist to quell my abuse of the pillow. “Sterling, what is it? What’s wrong?” He said my name with such tenderness. Oh, he knew too well how to lure me; he wooed me with all the tactics I could not fight: attention, tenderness, pleasure, touch. Everything I’d always lacked.

“Shhh. Hush.” Erich opened his palm over my fist and pressed it down as he had done during our betrothal ceremony. He slid his hand under my chin, and pulled my face away from the pillow. I resisted; I hated for him to see me in the harsh daylight. “What’s wrong?” he asked again, maneuvering himself so his arms cradled me.

I let him peel away my pillow. He took his hand from my face and laid it over my chest, pressing. Tension left my body in a palpable rush. I stared at the ceiling.

“I give up. I just give up.” I closed my eyes. Let Erich have his way with everything. I was tired of resisting, tired of fighting, tired of being on my own. If Costas Galatien wanted to lock me up in the Palace prisons, so be it.

“What do you mean?” Erich pulled me against him so I could press my face into his chest instead of the pillow. “Don’t give up, Sterling. We’re so close. I have it all figured out.”

I laughed, or croaked, more like. “Thank the gods someone does. All right, Erich. Do whatever you think is best. I’m done with fighting and running.”

* * *

E
rich left me after breakfast
. “I have a few errands,” he explained. “I’ll be back in an hour or two, and then we’ll go together to the Palace, yes?” He looked at me so imploringly, I almost laughed. Instead, I nodded.

I waited for him, fretful and unoccupied. I didn’t feel comfortable wandering through the Talata family’s townhouse, so I confined myself to the bedchamber.

I smoothed my skin with generous amounts of cosmetic and arranged my hair into a flattering coiffure. I fiddled with the items on Erich’s dressing table—his shaving soap and his blade, a bottle of scent and a bowl of pins for his cuffs. I’d never seen Erich wearing jewelry. He didn’t need embellishment. I peeked into his jumbled wardrobe and organized it to pass the time.

I was arranging Erich’s shirts by color when I heard the chamber door open. “Sterling? Where are you?” Erich’s voice sounded distressed.

“I’m here,” I called out. “Is something wrong?”

Erich leaned around the dressing screen. “What are you doing?”

“I organized your clothes. They were a mess.”

Erich looked up at the hanging shirts and coats arranged in a neat row. “Amatos, Sterling, you’re not a chambermaid.”

“I was bored.”

“Come on, you must prepare to go to the Palace. We’re to appear in an hour.”

“But I am ready.” I’d given in to the inevitable. Even if I fled again, Costas’s Dragonnaires would find me—if not for Erich’s intervention, I’d already be at the Palace. I would turn myself over to Costas’s mercy as Erich advised. I sighed.

A knock sounded on the chamber door. “Come,” Erich called.

The butler opened the door. “Your package, my lord.” The man walked in and placed a dress bag on the bed.

Erich dismissed the servant and picked up the bag. “I had insufficient time to send for anything from Avani, so I bought you a new one. Though you’ll break me if you keep making me buy your dresses, sweetheart. I’m on an economy, you know.”

I stiffened. “You didn’t have to buy me anything. I can wear this.” I gestured to my rumpled traveling dress and crossed my arms over my chest.

“Please, Sterling. You’re going to plead your case to the King. You cannot wear that. Don’t you know Costas at all?”

“He married my sister. Of course I know him.” Though Costas Galatien, as far as I could tell, had never even looked at me. He’d barely bothered to look at beautiful Stesi. The only woman Costas paid any attention to was his secret bride, the mother of his son. In Avani Verbian had said the mages believed Costas and his bride had made a mythical magical bind together, the
aetherlumo di fieri
. I’d always understood the term to mean love at first sight, but I suspected Verbian had meant something more technical.

“Appearances matter to Costas,” Erich went on. “He needs the nation to be whole again, and he’ll want you to put on a good show so everyone thinks he has Lethemia in hand. It’s a matter of confidence—he needs people to believe in him. You must go to him as the Head of House Ricknagel, and you must beg his forgiveness. You need to look the part, and you need to show him true contrition.”

“He’s fortunate he managed to kill everyone else in my family. I’m the only Ricknagel who could endure such humiliation. If I had been born beautiful, you’d never get me to do this. I’d have pride.”

Erich ignored my remarks and held up the dress. It was Ricknagel blue, my favorite, a color I’d rarely been allowed to wear. Stesi had always claimed it as hers, and my mother did not wish me to draw anything away from Stesi’s glory. As if I could. Likely my mother had simply not wanted our House color—which could be worn only by us—to be seen on her misfit daughter.

“Where did you get that?” I demanded.

“It cost me enough, let me tell you. I found it at Asher’s. He’s the tailor for the Galatiens. Your sister must have ordered it before she—”

“Was murdered,” I reminded Erich of the insult my House had endured at Costas’s hands, though I knew he didn’t believe Costas guilty of the assassination.

Stesi’s dress would be too long and too large in the bust. I snatched the gown from Erich.

“I had Asher take it in,” he said. “And he hemmed it.”

I removed my traveling dress and pulled the new gown over my head. Erich went to the table and picked up my reticule.

I opened my mouth to stop him, too late. He held it open. “What is this?”

“That,” I said, knowing he’d figure it out anyway, “is the Emerald Ophira.”

“Blessed Amassis! Why do you have it here?”

“I brought it with me to Engashta for safe-keeping.”

Erich turned the stone around in his hand and stared into it as though scrying a mirror. “Verbian said magic is broken.” He lifted his lustrous eyes. “But I can almost see some aetherlight in here, a twist of yellow and blue. Sterling. Last night. Did you feel—” His voice cut off, leaving his thought incomplete.

“I saw a mage on the ferry,” I said. “Headed for the Conservatoire to meet with others. They say it’s completely gone, everywhere. As if magic never existed.”

“So I gathered when I saw the Galantia Bridge had fallen.” Erich lifted both hands in front of him and stared at them. They trembled slightly. “Amatos, what will happen if the Eastern Empire hears that our magic is broken? Everyone knows fear of our magic was the only reason they never attacked the eastern border outright.”

I shook my head. Magic wasn’t the only reason; Papa’s treaty had prevented it, too. But it didn’t bear thinking about yet. Half the reason I had agreed to turn myself over to Costas was that Papa used to say Lethemia had to be united if we meant to face the Eastern Empire across a battlefield. And with magic broken, we might have to do that very thing.

E
rich broke
the silence inside his carriage. “I’ll speak first, but Costas will have questions for you. Try to answer honestly without incriminating yourself. Whatever you do, don’t show support for your father’s rebellion. Say you didn’t have any choice in the matter.”

“I didn’t.” Papa hadn’t consulted his barely-of-age daughter about whether or not to go to war. If he had I might have advised against it. Diplomacy seemed to me a better route than violence in most matters.

“Good,” Erich said. “After you speak, I’ll take over again.”

Erich played the part of the lord perfectly as we ascended the front steps of the Palace. The two crystal pillars that flanked the entry, the Sapphire and the Rose, looked the same as ever. Whatever had gone wrong with magic hadn’t broken them. Was it because they weren’t mage-built, spell-cast mageglass, but rather actual crystals from the earth? Did the mages even know?

Erich’s arm gave steady support beneath my hand; he moved so confidently that it lent me courage, too. This was the man my father had intended me to marry.

Costas Galatien, High King of Lethemia, was dressed in white from head to toe, pacing—in an unkingly manner—across the dais in the receiving hall of the Crystal Palace. I’d imagined fawning courtiers surrounding him, but he had only a small contingent of Dragonnaires arrayed against the wall beside the dais.

He glared at me as Erich bowed and I curtseyed. “Sterling Ricknagel. You have a lot of explaining to do.”

I had to restrain the contempt that danced on my tongue.
I
had explaining to do? He was the one who’d assassinated his wife because he was in love with someone else. “Your Majesty,” I said.

Costas waved for Erich and me to join him on the dais. My palms moistened despite my best resolve to resign myself to whatever would happen. I didn’t want to die or be locked up in a dark prison beneath the High City. I wanted to walk out of here on Erich’s arm.

“Lord Erich.” Costas inclined his head. “Thank you for bringing your wayward charge to me. You’ve shown your loyalty, and for that, too, I thank you. Let us sit and air these grave matters between us.” He gestured towards two divans facing each other on the dais, but at that moment, steps snapped across the onyx floor, and a harried page in grey Galatien livery threw himself into a bow.

“What is it?” Costas asked him.

“Your Majesty!” the youth said breathlessly. “It is the mage Laith Amar and—and his sister. They have just passed through the front gates of the Palace.”

Costas’s body thrummed with tension as he brushed past Erich and me, racing across the long receiving hall. “Do you mean Leila? Do you mean the Queen?”

“Indeed, Your Majesty. The—the Queen and her brother are here.” The poor page seemed confused.

Erich and I were left alone on the dais. “Does that mean Costas’s secret bride is ... the mage Laith Amar’s sister?” I asked Erich. “I thought House Amar had only the two sons: Lord Jaasir and the bastard, Laith.”

Erich slid his hand into mine. “Leila Galatien is another bastard child of Lord Onatos Amar, Jaasir and Laith’s father,” he explained.

We gazed at Costas, who stood framed in light in the huge doorway that opened onto the Palace steps.

“Leila!” Costas nearly leapt down the stairs to greet the two figures on the Palace walk.

As Costas approached, Laith Amar, a mage I had met at my father’s house in the delicate time before the war, released the pale woman and fell back.

Everyone was mesmerized by the spectacle. We’d all grown silent: me, Erich, Laith Amar, the page, the Dragonnaires behind us. We watched, motionless, as the King and his wife came together. They appeared drawn to each other by some sort of magnetism. They said no words. Costas swooped one arm beneath the woman’s knees and the other around her back, lifting her as if she weighed no more than a feather.

Their foreheads touched, and Costas whispered fiercely to his bride. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her wan, sad face into his chest.

He turned, carrying her back up the stairs and into the receiving hall. There Costas set the woman—Leila—on her feet and stared at her. “Gods, you’re beautiful,” he said, heedless of his audience.

A thrum of envy vibrated in my heart. I wished Erich would look at
me
that way, as though I were the moon to his ocean, pulling tides. I wished Erich would call
me
beautiful.

Costas cupped his wife’s face and kissed her, for so long I had to cast my gaze at the gleaming black floor, embarrassed to witness such a private moment.

“Never again, my love,” Costas said. “Never leave me like that again.”

Where had she been? And why had she gone?
If Erich loved me the way Costas so obviously loved Leila, I’d never leave his side.

Costas lifted one hand and snapped his fingers at the Dragonnaires. One broke away and disappeared into the Palace.

I took the opportunity to study Leila Galatien, née Amar, the woman who had stolen Costas’s heart and ruined my sister’s marriage before it had even begun.

She wore a dress of purple so dark it looked almost black. Her skin was pale, her eyes a rich, deep blue. Her black hair was intricately braided. Her face, despite an exotic, ivory-skinned beauty, was sad and forlorn, almost hopeless.

I’d seen her before, more than once.

She’d danced with Costas at his Brokering. They had lit up the room with their obvious connection, and whispers had flown even then about mythical magic and the
aetherlumo di fieri
. People had said she’d bewitched him.

How could I have forgotten her? I’d seen her again, at my betrothal ball in Engashta. She’d danced with Papa. She’d been the one in the navel-dancer’s costume. Papa had been in her company, leaving the ballroom, the last time I’d seen him alive! Understanding dawned.
She
had helped Costas to escape. Not only that—likely she knew how Papa had been killed—and who had done the vile deed.

“You,” I hissed as she and Costas approached. I was beyond all reason and propriety.

She blinked in surprise as Costas lifted her onto the dais as though she were a helpless doll. “Sterling Ricknagel?” A perplexed expression crossed her face.

“She is here to ask my pardon and to reunite House Ricknagel to the Ten Houses,” Costas explained. He could not stop gazing at her—one might think Leila Galatien the only star in his night sky. “Have you met?” he asked. Leila shook her head, looking at me warily, perhaps sensing my upset.

He draped an arm over Leila’s shoulder. “This is Queen Leila Galatien, my wife and consort.” His golden Galatien eyes bored into me, looking for a reaction. Did he think I would protest because of Stesi? Hardly. I knew I could show neither softness nor dismay. He held my fate in his hands.

Leila’s attention skittered away, her gaze darting through the room. She clutched at a necklace she wore, a bone embedded with a large red crystal sphere.

We were interrupted again, this time by the Dragonnaire who’d left a moment ago and a foreign-looking youth of perhaps twelve years, carrying a baby.
The
baby. Costas’s heir. The one I’d tucked into his cradle in Engashta.

“Tiriq!” Leila—the Queen—darted across the receiving hall and collected her son from the boy, who, despite his youth, was dressed in the full uniform of a Dragonnaire. He had the upslanted eyes and dark freckled skin of a Gantean. The only other Gantean I’d ever known was Serafina, my handmaiden.

The baby chortled with obvious glee in his mother’s embrace. “Thank you, Miki,” Leila said to the Gantean boy. “You have taken good care of him.”

Costas beamed at them with a pleased expression, though his gaze was tainted with deep longing whenever it touched Leila. Leila, the baby, and the Dragonnaire departed together through the gilded archway.

“Well,” Costas said, pulling himself together. “This happy reunion was unexpected. Back to the matter at hand.” He turned to Erich and me, indicating the seats on dais. Erich and I sat facing him. Costas’s expression was much softer than at our first greeting, and I suspected my cause had been assisted by Leila Galatien’s timely arrival. Costas’s happiness might overflow into goodwill, even towards me. “So, Sterling Ricknagel,” he said. “Where have you been?”

I had anticipated this question. I cast one last glance at the gilded doorway where Queen Leila had disappeared. I wanted to know what she knew about Papa’s death, but, “I left Engashta the same night you did,” I said, avoiding mention of the details. “I headed east on the road to Lyssus and was waylaid by traveling difficulties. I meant to return to Shankar, but I ran out of money. Erich caught up with me here in Galantia.” My answer completely ignored the fact that I ought to have come directly to Costas if I truly meant to beg forgiveness.

“I hear you and Erich were betrothed,” Costas said.

“A short-lived arrangement,” I managed.

“I see. So, you were headed back to Shankar. Understandable, I suppose. Why didn’t you send word to me? You had to have known I was looking for you.”

I bit my lip. I didn’t have a good reply for this. “I feared you,” I whispered.

“As you should. Your father was the greatest traitor Lethemia has ever seen,” Costas said.

Only when Erich squeezed my hand did I realize he was still holding it.

Costas meant to rile me, of course, to make me angry so I lost my composure and forgot my scripted answers.

I’m sorry, Papa,
but what can I do?
“Yes,” I said, nodding meekly. “I know.”

Costas’s jaw twitched. He hadn’t expected agreement.

“I told him not to go to war.” I shifted on the uncomfortable divan. “But he was very angry. He believed you had Stesichore killed.”

“His rebellion almost destroyed our nation,” Costas said, ignoring my veiled accusation. “It’s been a mess. Now, with this unprecedented interruption in magical power, we are on the brink of a real disaster with the Eastern Empire. Your father’s actions have weakened our military might in a time of direst need. I cannot ignore what House Ricknagel has done.”

“It is not merely an interruption, what has happened to magic,” a voice murmured behind us.

All three of us turned to find the mage Laith Amar standing below the dais.

“I have a coterie of mages looking into it, and they will fix what has gone wrong,” Costas said.

The handsome, dark-haired mage tilted his head, but said no more. The two men were as different as the sun and the moon: Costas all hot passion, Laith, cool and distant.

“Wait a moment in my private salon, would you, Laith?” Costas said, shocking me with his informality. “We have matters to discuss. You will stand as a proxy for House Amar to renew your allegiance to me today.”

The Amarian mage bowed and retreated into the Palace as his sister had done.

Costas faced me, his expression severe.

I stared at my lap and turned my unmarked cheek forward
.
Would it be the dungeons? House imprisonment? Death?

“Sterling Ricknagel, I fine you one hundred thousand gold jhass,” Costas announced. “You will be reinstated as head of your house after you offer a vow of fealty, but I am requisitioning your metal mines above Golddam, your navy, and your standing army. I’ll head east tomorrow to settle this mess with the Empire at the border. I’ll be using Ricknagel Manor as a base, and I’ll need your troops. Will they support me?”

My mouth fell open.
One hundred thousand gold jhass?
Costas would break my House with such an indemnity! And taking away the mines would cut our annual income by a third. I’d expected the requisitioning of our boats and troops—but the fine was exorbitant. I snapped my mouth closed.

Costas’s gold eyes flashed. Erich emanated tension. His fingers whitened around mine.

“Well?” demanded Costas. “Your troops? What do you think, Lady Ricknagel?”

He’d used my title. If I agreed to his terms, I’d be fully reinstated to my former position. But would my father’s troops support Costas against the Eastern Empire?

Papa had been a soldier, a man of honor and prowess. His men had followed him almost slavishly. Their loyalty to the Ricknagel banner had never wavered, but such loyalty would not easily transfer to Costas Galatien, who had so recently been our enemy. Not without a Ricknagel to push it. That meant me. Some of my father’s men would not follow Costas no matter what I did: his mages, for instance, and probably his top generals, too.

“They are loyal to House Ricknagel, Your Majesty,” I said. “If I direct them to support you, they will. But I will have to go to Shankar and make my will known to them if you wish the transition of power to go smoothly.”

“You’ll depart with my contingent in the morning, then. I’d prefer that you remain in the Palace until we depart. Lord Erich can send your belongings along for transport.”

“I have nothing.” I carried my only objects of value in my reticule.

“Even better,” Costas said.

My mind still reeled from Costas’s demands. The indemnity was crushing. House Ricknagel would be impoverished for decades. And what would happen if I did not or could not pay? Interest, fines, ever increasing debt to House Galatien. Costas meant to ruin me and my heirs for generations to come.

“Your Majesty.” Erich’s voice broke through my fogged mind. “I would beg a favor.”

“Presumptuous, Lord Erich,” Costas said. “You are hardly back in my good graces yet.”

“Even so, I will ask.”

I stared at Erich in surprise. I had thought this whole performance a way for him to curry Costas’s favor, yet here he courted disfavor.

“I ask for Lady Ricknagel’s hand in marriage.”

I coughed to cover my shock.

Costas’s tight smile contained no humor. “You must think me a fool.”

“No,” Erich proclaimed. “But I love Sterling. Surely you understand?” Erich gave a significant look to the gilded door through which Costas’s wife had vanished.

Costas’s eyebrows drew together. I felt sympathy for his confusion. Hadn’t Erich heard the amount of money I owed the Throne? Without the indemnity, his request might have made sense; Erich hated living on an economy. But I’d become suddenly destitute, too.