The Dark Throne (31 page)

I giggled. “Ah. Giggly. Yes.” I handed my cup to Merrick, who seemed only too happy to take it. “Always been a lightweight,” I commented to everyone.

Vell laughed, a high bright sound. “Of course you are, Lady Bearer.”

I narrowed my eyes at her, trying to scowl, but the effect was ruined when my smile appeared after barely more than a second. Vell’s eyes danced in amusement.

Gray slid close to me, her beautiful face alight with wickedness and liquor. “You two certainly make a lovely pair,” she breathed into my ear, her hand skimming over my shoulders, feather-light.

“Glad you think so,” I replied with an answering grin.

“So this means your Northerner is free to enjoyments of his own choosing?” she purred.

Finnead gracefully left my side, making his way toward Merrick and Calliea, sliding a deep blue gaze of promise and desire over his shoulder as he walked away. Just the look in his eyes made my body tighten like a string waiting to be plucked. I swallowed and turned my attention back to Gray, who suddenly seemed very close, and very shining—white teeth and golden hair and bright eyes like chips of emerald.

“Firstly,” I said, the warmth in my chest preventing me from feeling any real irritation at her closeness or her question, “Luca isn’t
my
Northerner. And secondly….no idea why you’re asking my permission.”

“Don’t take offense, my dear,” Gray said quietly, eyes glittering in the firelight. “It is merely a mark of respect.” She smiled, looking distinctly wolf-like. Vell was rubbing off on her Three. “It is always easier when women work things out between ourselves, I think.”

I shrugged with one shoulder, a wisp of annoyance threading its way through the warm haze. My thoughts sharpened as the conversation continued. “If you say so. I’ve never really gotten along with most women.”

Gray raised one eyebrow. “I can’t imagine why.”

“Look, if you came over here to ask my permission, you have it,” I said. “It’s Luca’s decision, not mine.”

Gray inclined her head gracefully, still close enough that I could feel the whisper of her breath on my skin. “You do not constantly have to defend yourself, Tess,” she said softly, almost gently. “Not everyone is looking for a fight.”

I took a deep breath. “You’re right.” I smiled.

“There,” Gray said with an answering smile. She reached up and brushed a strand of hair away from my face. I blinked. Her smile sharpened for just an instant, but then a bout of laughter erupted from behind her, and she turned to rejoin the merriment. I released the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, and searched the constantly moving crowd for Finnead. The warriors gave me a small amount of space as I walked, some touching their foreheads in obeisance despite the revelry; I did my best to nod at each of them. Vell’s choice of liquor fortunately seemed to carry all the pleasurable effects of intoxication, with little of the drawbacks. A haze of pleasurable, buzzing warmth enveloped me, but I was still steady on my feet.

I passed a little knot of warriors, and then paused, backtracking. Calliea stood at the center of what looked to be a ring of admirers—men and a few women who gazed at her with something akin to hero-worship. Though Sidhe were too graceful to look truly uncomfortable, she held herself stiffly and didn’t show her teeth when she smiled at the tall Sidhe trying to capture her attention with his story.

“Excuse me,” I murmured, sliding through the outer edge of the group. A few of the warriors gave me resentful glances until they recognized me, and then my path promptly cleared. Perhaps there were advantages to being famous. Or infamous. Whichever applied to me.

“Calliea, good, glad I found you,” I said. “I need your help…um…with my hands.” I held up my bandaged hands and smiled.

“Of course,” Calliea said, a bit too quickly. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said to the group of admirers, following me as I wended my way back out of the little throng.

I giggled as soon as we were out of earshot. “I don’t really need help with my hands.”

“You just think you don’t,” Calliea said. “But you should probably wrap them before going to sleep. And thanks.”

I waved one hand in the air. “Of course. What are friends for if not to rescue you from bad blind dates and adoring crowds.” I hicupped and grinned. “And my hands’re….perfectly fine. See?”

Calliea deftly caught my wrist and inspected the now-dingy bandage circling my palm. “There’s a bit of fresh blood here. Come on. I’ve had enough of this celebration anyway.” She led the way now, skirting the edge of camp back towards the healing tent. I skimmed the crowd but still didn’t see Finnead. I shrugged. Vell had probably tasked him with something.

“Hey fur-face,” I greeted Beryk as we passed, roughing the fur at his neck with one hand. He grinned and his tail swept over the grass in reply.

“We’ll probably need to work the morning watch anyway tomorrow,” she said conversationally, ducking into the gray healing tent.

“Is there enough room in here for us to…” I trailed off, staring in wonder. Though the tent was a good size from the outside, it was palatial within, and curtains of different jewel tones neatly cordoned off different sections.

“A bit of warp and weft in the fabric of the tent,” Calliea said with a smile at my nonplussed expression. “Good to know you can still be surprised.”

“Well…you guys keep pulling new tricks…rabbits….out of your hat,” I said, almost losing the thread of my sentence more than once.

Calliea quickly checked behind an emerald-green curtain. “Good. I had a feeling this one would be saved for you.”

“I
told
him there were places,” I muttered as we slid into an alcove that was small but cozy, walls created on four sides by softly shimmering fabric that somehow seemed very solid. Even the ground was covered by deep blue cloth, and I immediately felt guilty for my mud-encrusted boots. An enchanted lantern glowed softly in the corner. I noticed there were two sets of furs, and my saddlebags had already been brought…or perhaps they’d been conjured. I didn’t really care either way.

“You’re sleeping here too, right?” I asked, making it more of a statement than a question.

“I thought it might be good for both of us,” Calliea replied, pouring a packet of fresh-smelling herbs into a steaming silver basin that I was fairly certain hadn’t existed a moment ago. Maybe the liquor was finally getting to me.

“Unless,” I amended quickly, thinking of Merrick, “you have someone else…”

“I’m just going to be
sleeping
, no matter where I am,” Calliea replied.

“Okay then, stay here.”

“I can do that.” Calliea smiled. “It’ll make it simple for us to take the watch in the morning. Let’s wash up then, and I’ll see to your hands.”

We shed our clothes industriously. I set the Sword carefully by my furs, and Calliea handed me a soft cloth soaked in the warm fragrant water. I closed my eyes blissfully as I wiped the lingering war-paint and dust and direflame from my face; I hadn’t realized I felt so grimy until I began to wash. My head still hummed with the liquor.

“How did all of this
get
here?” I asked, digging out a shirt and breeches from my bags.

“If you’re talking about your packs, Luca brought them in. If you’re talking about the tent and everything else, the
vyldretning
handled it all. She said something about using a bit of her power to make everyone more comfortable.”

“Is this big enough to house
everyone
?” I asked in an awed whisper.

“Some will still want to sleep under the stars. But anyone who desires a place will have one.” Calliea smiled. I noticed her cheeks glowed rosily, and felt a bit vindicated—I wasn’t the only one whom the liquor had affected. “Let me see your hands.”

I obediently sat, suddenly very tired, and held out my bare hands. Calliea brushed salve onto my palms, and I sighed at the coolness of the ointment on my skin.

“Leave them bare for the night,” Calliea said, and somehow that made me very happy. I hadn’t slept without bandages on my hands since I’d awoken in the Hall of the Outer Guard. “I’ll wake you in the morning.”

“Thanks,” I murmured with a sleepy smile, sliding over toward my furs.

“Oh. Here. Drink at least half of this.”

I took the water-skin and downed several large swallows, handing it back to her with another murmur of appreciation. And with that, I felt exhaustion settle over my shoulders, and I sank blissfully onto the furs, thinking as I closed my eyes that after a dragon hunt, sleep felt very sweet indeed.

Chapter 17

I
awoke in my dream and suppressed a sigh. Though I’d first reveled in the feel of Walking, it now seemed that this talent took hold on the nights that I most needed sleep. I stretched, standing beside my sleeping form in the dim tent; and then I frowned as I felt a tug, like the pull of a string tied behind my breastbone. I felt for the seam between Faeortalam and the ether and slipped through it into the whirling-star darkness. The power of the Caedbranr still circled in my chest, not quite awake. I reasoned that the Sword would warn me if this summons carried me into danger. I flew through the ether like an arrow rocketing through the night sky, bursting through clouds of dizzying color, sunsets and sunrises, rainbows and vivid blue skies all woven into a kaleidoscope of brilliance.

Finally I felt myself slow, the force pulling me through the ether lessening until I followed it of my own volition. The colors wavered and shimmered about me as I slipped into a particular pocket of the ether, and when I realized where I was standing, a dizzying wave of half-forgotten memories rose in the back of my mind. I touched a blue rose with my fingertips, the heavy bloom nodding at my touch. The rosebushes primly bordered a winding white gravel path. I walked a small way down the path, listening to the sound of my footsteps, remembering how I’d relished the crunch of the delicate stones beneath my small feet.

“So you have not forgotten how to Walk. That, at least is encouraging,
ma saell doendhine
.”

Still feeling disoriented, I nonetheless grinned as I saw Ramel, leaning insouciantly against a pale birch tree in one of the garden’s many alcoves. He smiled in return and inclined his head.

“Well met, Lady Bearer.”

“Well met, Vaelanbrigh,” I returned, arching my eyebrow as I closed the distance between us with long strides. My former sword-teacher and I gazed at each other for a long moment, and then I launched myself at him, embracing him fiercely. He chuckled and returned the hug, then held me out at arm’s length, inspecting me. When his gaze reached my hands, he scowled, seizing my wrist to better look at the scars and my still-raw palms.

“When the High Queen was crowned, I was holding the Crown of Bones,” I explained with a shrug. Ramel looked at me sharply. “There were flames and such. It was very exciting.” He grinned at my deadpan statement. “But I can still hold a sword, so there’s that.”

“Aye,” he agreed, “there’s that.” He squeezed my shoulder with his other hand and then released me.

“Neat trick, that summoning string,” I said conversationally.

Ramel grinned. “You liked it more when you were just a wisp.”

I took a deep breath and swallowed, memories rising like insidious fog from the depths of my unconscious mind. “Yeah. I noticed the venue hasn’t changed.” I tried to smile and failed. “You know I stopped coming back here, after my dad died.”

“It wasn’t this place that killed him,” Ramel said.

“But when he died, I stopped believing in it. I thought that maybe I’d…maybe I’d destroyed it or something.”

“It would take great power to truly destroy something in the ether.” Ramel’s hand strayed to the hilt of the sword he wore at his waist. A ruby flashed in the pommel, and I caught a faint whiff of its energy, probing at me. I brushed it away almost carelessly. Ramel raised an eyebrow.

“Power like Malravenar has, apparently,” I replied, deciding not to ask if Ramel had been testing my power, or if the new Brighbranr had been acting on its own. They were both tied to Mab, and I didn’t doubt that she’d sent him here. Then my mind turned to the pocket in the ether where Liam and I had reconstructed our childhood home…and the night that I’d returned to find it razed to the ground, embers glowing amid the charred skeleton of the house. I took another slow, measured breath and turned to the delicately carved white bench beneath the birch. I sat down and leaned back, crossing my legs at the ankles. “So,” I said, looking up at Ramel, “what does Mab want to know?”

Ramel smiled, a little ruefully. “You don’t think I just wanted to visit with the pretty little
doendhine
who has grown up to be such a fierce Bearer?”

“No. You’re one of Mab’s Three now.”

“Does that mean we cannot be friends?”

I looked away, unable to meet the earnest question in Ramel’s eyes. “No. You’re still my friend. But I feel as though she’s listening to every word we say.”

“Mab isn’t the enemy, you know.”

“I
know
that, Ramel, but she hasn’t exactly treated me with civility,” I replied.

“She didn’t kill you,” he pointed out.

I stared at him. “Yes, sparing my life was
so
magnanimous of her.”

“You’ve been studying your vocabulary, good Lady Bearer. I shall have to remember that one.” Ramel smiled, but then sobered when I didn’t join him in the joke. He sighed slightly and sat down on the opposite side of the bench. “I called you here, Tess, because I wanted you to know that we will be joining you soon. Any ill will you bear toward Mab would be best forgotten.”

“First of all, you didn’t
call
me here. You…
invited
me, and I accepted your invitation. And secondly, I will be perfectly
civil
to Mab, which is still more than she offered me; but you can’t expect me to welcome her with an embrace.”

“Far be it from me to try to change the heart of a woman,” muttered Ramel.

I closed my teeth on the sharp retort readily supplied by my indignant pride, instead watching the blue roses nod in an unfelt breeze.