Sterling (2 page)

A
s I hastened
below stairs to find the Duke’s housekeeper, I raged internally at Papa for committing me to a marriage before I’d ever even met the man. I’d learned the hard way that a man’s willingness to marry me would change after he saw my face.
Splotch-face
, Lord Culan Entila had called me, just before he’d sworn he’d never marry me.

I’d heard of Erich Talata—gods, who hadn’t? Whenever people spoke of him, they whispered something scandalous. He hadn’t attended Costas Galatien’s Marriage Brokering, but his absence had generated the usual whispers: too much of a rakehell to settle down, too perverse for a delicate daughter of the Ten Houses, too handsome for his own good.

On the bright side, since Erich had not attended the Brokering, he had not seen me. He had no idea what I looked like—unless he had heard rumors. Perhaps I could salvage my dignity. I needed to prevent Erich Talata from seeing my face until the betrothal had been sealed in public. Then I would show him the travesty of my face. In private.

I could bear private shame; public would devastate me.

The theme that I reported to the housekeeper, then, was
masquerade
, though I could almost hear the society ladies mocking me:
It’s so she doesn’t have to show her face.

This would be Papa’s first occasion as King of Lethemia. I had to make it a success, and that meant the betrothal must go through.

* * *

T
he morning
of the ball Papa woke me early to steal a few precious moments before our many obligations distracted us.

“How are you, Starry?” he asked as we entered the Duke’s morning room where a full breakfast spread awaited us. Papa held out a chair for me and rested both hands on my shoulders, squeezing. “Ready for tonight?”

“Yes, Papa. Everything is arranged.” I paused, wondering if he would be angry if I asked the questions that had been burning in my mind since I’d read his letter. “Papa—”

“Don’t worry about Erich. I intend to pull him aside and have words. If he doesn’t treat you well, he’ll have me to deal with. You tell me at the first insult, and I’ll mop that boy up with his own gold-dusted hair. You are the heir to the throne. You will be respected.”

After Stesi’s disastrous marriage, Papa’s protectiveness was only to be expected. “No, Papa, that wasn’t what was on my mind. I was thinking, you said you had captured Costas Galatien and his
son
?” I’d been dying for a chance to see the Galatien baby. Whispers about Costas’s secret wife and even more secret offspring had flown across the country during the war. I had not believed the child—though
I’d
heard there were twins—actually existed. I was mad for babies, perhaps because I often despaired of ever having any of my own.

Papa took a seat, pushing aside his plate of eggs and pulling on his eyebrows. I frowned; he’d lost weight, and his cheekbones stuck out more than ever.

“Apparently Costas did have some kind of secret marriage and the child was declared his heir. I had to take the babe along with the father, else Galatien supporters might rally around the child even after I dispose of Costas.” He sighed. “And now I’ll have to dispose of the baby as well.”

“Dispose of him?” Horror laced my words. “The baby? Costas’s son?”

“He is a problem. I do not like it, but as long as he is alive, he is a threat to our power.”

“Papa! How can you say such things? I want to see him.”

“Don’t you have to prepare for the ball this evening?”

“Oh, Papa, please let me see the baby. And really, couldn’t we keep him? If you raised him, he would grow up thinking of
you
as his Papa. He would be like a brother to me. He could help me—”

“Starry, don’t be a ninny.” Papa sighed. “We cannot raise a rival to the Throne.”

I crossed my arms. “What else can you do with him? You can’t kill him. He’s only a baby!”

“I don’t think my new bride will be willing to raise him in her household.”

My heart froze all over again. “Your
what
?”

Papa was back to pulling his eyebrows. “You are not the only one asked to make sacrifices for our noble cause.”

“Papa, say what you mean!”

His hands came down and drummed a sharp staccato on the tabletop. “How do you think we wrested the High City from Costas Galatien’s control so easily, Starry?”

His question whiplashed me. I
had
been surprised to hear how quickly Galantia had fallen, but what did that have to do with whatever Papa meant about his new bride
?
“I surely don’t know.”

“We had inside help. One of Costas’s magitrixes turned. For us.”

“Turned? As in betrayed her lienbound lord? Who? It wasn’t that awful one who served Stesi, was it? Sienna?” I had loathed the handmaiden Stesi had been given after her marriage to Costas. I even suspected the magitrix—named Sienna—of being the actual assassin who had poisoned my sister. Papa could not mean her.

“Stesi’s old handmaiden?” Papa said. “Was she a magitrix? I had no idea. No, of course it wasn’t her—she was of no consequence. Our agent is a daughter of the Ten Houses, an ally of standing. Ghilene Entila.”

“Ghilene Entila!” I sucked a dismayed breath.

Papa went on, “She held the spell lynchkeys to both of the Galatiens’ magical barriers—the one in the Savalias as well as the one in the High City. She gave them to me, which let my mages dismantle the barriers and make our attacks successfully.”

I had met Ghilene on our visit to Queenstown, when Papa had thought to marry me to her older brother. If she held lynchkeys—magical passwords—it meant Costas Galatien had trusted her. “In exchange for what?” I asked. Dread unfurled through my limbs as I anticipated Papa’s words.

Papa’s tapping fingers stilled. “She demanded that I marry her.”

“No!” I sprang from my seat so fast I almost fainted.

Papa leaned back in his chair. “I could not afford to refuse her assistance. We could not have won without her. She captured Costas’s son and sent him to me. She awaits me in Galantia. We will be married at my coronation.”

“Papa, she’s barely older than I! And—and she’s a magitrix! They never marry!” I groped for any excuse.

“She will give up the practice of magic, as is right and proper for a woman who will be Queen.”

Mama was not even a year in the grave! Ghilene Entila, my stepmother? That vile girl? She’d called me
Splotch-face
right along with her brother. “Papa!”

Papa stood and held out his hand, palm up. “Starry. This is the smallest of the sacrifices I have made to achieve the Throne. Stop fussing. Come, I’ll show you the baby. Will that cheer you?”

He led me up the mansion’s stairs, bypassing the door to his chambers and continuing down the hall decorated in red velvet. There he unlocked a door to a parlor with a lush carpet. He ushered me in, flicking on a magelight wall sconce.

A man—Costas Galatien, I recognized him by his luminous bronze skin—sat slumped in a chair before the large window on the far wall. A cage of mageglass glimmered around him, making a charmed prison for the ousted king.

“Who made the cage?” I asked. Papa did not have many mages at his command—one of the many grievances he had nurtured against House Galatien. Old treaties limited the number of lienbound mages House Ricknagel could own, which in turn limited our ability to defend our border with the Eastern Empire.

Papa offered a wry smile. “Kyro, if you can believe it.”

“Kyro?” My father’s personal mage had never demonstrated such talents before.

Papa strode close to the greenish mageglass and ran a finger up it. “Outdid himself, didn’t he? He’s still recovering. I had to send to the Temple to bring his Sources to him, he was that drained. But it is a solid work.”

“He’s asleep,” I murmured, peering in at Costas Galatien, my sister’s former husband.

“The enchantment drains him. I wanted you to see him though, Starry. I wanted you to see this man—a murderer who called himself a king. He killed your sister. Our Stesi. I would marry Ghilene Entila thrice over for his defeat. Do you understand?”

“But she betrayed her lienbound lord, Papa. How can you trust her not to betray you?”
Splotch-face.
I could still hear the scorn in her voice.

Papa caught both my hands and gazed intently at me. “It is most fitting for a Ricknagel, so long denied magic’s power, to defeat a Galatien who relied too much upon it. Most fitting, indeed.” He turned away. “Costas is the reason for all this.” Papa gestured broadly. “Do not think my marriage to the Entilan girl in any way dishonors your mother, Sterling. The new marriage is a necessity, nothing more. Have a look at the baby if you’re so interested, and make sure you close the door on your way out.” He left the room.

I lingered, studying both the mageglass cage and the man locked within it. Costas Galatien looked nearly dead—his skin was blanched, his coppery dark hair fell into his eyes, and the beginnings of a beard shaded his face.

Gingerly, I tapped the mageglass. It was as cold as ice. Costas did not stir.

At least
, I thought, turning away,
if I am to marry Erich Talata
,
I won’t have to live with Ghilene Entila.
Probably I’d go to Talat City to live in a strange house with people I did not know. Tears filled my eyes.

A cry startled me out of my misery. In the adjoining room a white wooden cradle stood beneath the far window.

“The baby!” I hurried over to peer at the baby.

He looked more developed than I expected, nearly a full year in age. I’d thought to see a tiny newborn.

He cooed.

“Hello there.” I dangled my hand before him. “Look how handsome you are.” The baby snatched my hand and gurgled. He had his father’s blessings: perfect bronze skin and well formed features, but his wide blue eyes were completely unlike Costas Galatien’s amber ones. “Go back to sleep, baby. I’m sure your nurse will be here soon.” I did not like that the child had been left all alone—a baby needed constant care. I would find a maid to sit with him.

When I turned from the cradle, the baby began to cry.

“Don’t cry.” I hauled the cradle until it slid across the carpeted floor, pushing the baby into the same room as Costas.

“There,” I said, tucking the baby beneath his blanket. “You’re with your papa now. Don’t cry.”

As I headed out, I gave Costas one more look where he sat behind the enchantment. Suddenly his head lifted and his eyes flew open, blazing with seething hatred. He recognized me—of course he did; who wouldn’t with a face like mine? The rage in his gaze sent me scrambling for the exit. I slammed the door behind me and leaned against it, shaken by the depth of emotion I had seen in the former king’s face.

He knew who I was, and he hated me.

* * *

A
fter sending
a maid to check on the baby, I readied myself for the ball, my hands quivering. I donned the most important piece of my costume, the mask. The eyepiece was gilded, and sapphires decorated the edges. Stiff layers of gold fabric that matched my gown cascaded down the right side of my face, hiding all trace of my birthmark.

My dress had a wide skirt and a corseted bodice; the older style flattered my narrow waist.

Oh, why did every rumor have to say that Erich Talata was the most handsome man in Lethemia? I’d have preferred an ugly spouse, one who might empathize with me.

In the ballroom, servants were making their last preparations, prodding at already-pristine flower arrangements and filling a mountain of wine flutes.

Finally people started to arrive. Though Papa had laughed at my masquerade theme, he wore a brilliant costume as the ancient Eastern Emperor, Zohar—fitting for his recent triumph, though any Galatien loyalists would think it in poor taste. The situation with the Eastern Empire had been a major point of contention between House Galatien and House Ricknagel.

Papa took me through the burgeoning crowd, introducing me. Names slipped through my head, never catching. I wondered about Erich Talata. Had he heard about me? Did he know I was disfigured? What if he refused to go through with the betrothal after he saw me? The harmony of an entire country depended on our union. Was it a mistake to deceive him with a masquerade? My mask only delayed the inevitable.