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RiverStar twisted about on her stool and stared at her younger sister. Zenith had all of their mother’s dark good looks, and more. So where had she inherited the reluctance to put them to enjoyable use?
“All this yearning for your imaginary lover will see you in your grave before you are bedded, Zenith. Let me find you a lover.” RiverStar paused. “And you, too, Leagh. Zared is a lean man, and reaching mortal middle age. No doubt he will tire early in bed. Let me find you an Icarii lover.”
Embarrassed, Leagh dropped her eyes, and Zenith glanced at her before responding to RiverStar’s taunt. “Spare your energies, sister, and find one for yourself.”
RiverStar chuckled deep in her throat. “I have found me a lover. The best yet. He kept me awake far into last night and exhausted me all over again at first light. There is none that can match him.”
Zenith was not very interested. RiverStar claimed every month that she had found a better lover than the last. Besides, this conversation could hardly be doing Leagh any good. Before she could say anything to redirect RiverStar’s mind, her sister continued.
“I think I shall wed him,” she said, and smiled in satisfaction as she watched Zenith’s surprise.
“Marry him? Is he an Enchanter? What is his name?”
RiverStar toyed with a curl of her hair and tried to look mysterious. “Well … he is an Enchanter of sorts, and he has unimaginable power. Can you guess his name?”
Zenith frowned and shook her head. “RiverStar, come on, tell me. Are you serious about taking a husband?” She couldn’t imagine RiverStar making anything but a very bad wife. What vows of fidelity she managed to mouth at the marriage would undoubtedly be broken within weeks.
“No, you are wrong, Zenith. I could be faithful to this man for an eternity. He is …” she shivered theatrically, and ran one hand down her thigh, “… more than enough to keep me satisfied. Dangerous. Darkly esoteric. Insatiable.” She almost growled the last word, and ran her tongue about her lips.
Gods, thought Leagh. He must have the stamina of an ox and a wall of steel about his heart to survive RiverStar! Leagh hoped RiverStar did not think to use her Enchanter powers to read her mind – the images jumbling about there were not very complimentary to RiverStar.
“Surely such a lover could only be a SunSoar,” Zenith observed, more than a little suspicious. “Who?”
Zenith was sure RiverStar was making this up. SunSoars were fated to truly love only another SunSoar, cursed to desire only their own blood. RiverStar could not be this satisfied with anyone but a SunSoar male – and who was available for them in Sigholt? No-one but first blood, their brothers and their father, and first blood was Forbidden.
She paused with her mouth half-open. No, not quite. There was always –
“Perhaps, perhaps not,” RiverStar said, and Zenith stood up in frustration, determined to find another topic of conversation. Did RiverStar think of nothing but the pleasures of a bedding?
“What else is there to think of in this foggy palace?” RiverStar asked, looking out the window to where the magical blue mists shrouded Sigholt.
“There are mysteries to contemplate,” Zenith said quietly, moving over to the window. “Dreams to examine.” Her voice had faded, and she was lost in her own thoughts now, not listening to RiverStar.
“Mysteries, bah!” RiverStar waved her hand impatiently. “The only mystery I wish to explore exists in the junction of –”
“In you the Icarii inclination towards obscenity has flowered into its full, foul-smelling ripeness, RiverStar,” a man’s voice said from the doorway.
“Drago,” RiverStar said, and leaned back in her chair, smoothing her filmy gown over her body. “My dear, sweet twin brother, what bitterness you display! Ever since our mother reversed your blood order and disinherited you from your Icarii powers you have been absolutely incapable of bedding anyone save the girls who sweep the kitchens. Think, Zenith, of all the Icarii female Enchanters he must covet,” she ran her hand over a breast, “and yet whom he cannot hope to bed in the face of their laughter and rejection.”
“RiverStar –” Zenith began.
“Would you beg to have me, Drago?” RiverStar pinched out her nipple. “Would you roll on the floor before me and beg?”
“Whore,” Drago said flatly, and stepped into the room. He turned as if to speak to Leagh, sitting in such embarrassed silence she wished all the SunSoar siblings would just go and find somewhere else to quarrel, but RiverStar had not yet finished with her brother.
“Wouldn’t he have made a useless Enchanter, Zenith?” she said, pretending a thoughtful expression. “But perhaps he would have expended his power using the Star Dance to burn up beetles on the parapets.”
Zenith opened her mouth, and then closed it again. What could she do now that she hadn’t tried previously? The gulf between RiverStar and Drago had grown over the past ten years as Drago had felt the first stirrings of age within his human body. RiverStar – shallow creature that she was – could not help but taunt his mortality. Drago could do nothing but meet her taunts with either the pretence of indifferent silence or the uselessness of sarcasm. That they had once shared a womb meant nothing to them now.
She saw Drago turn his gaze from Leagh to her, and watched his own eyes harden as he saw the sympathy in hers. Drago did not want anyone fighting his wars for him.
“But there is SunSoar blood in you yet,” RiverStar murmured, and her hand slid down her belly, her fingers daring, “and perhaps it craves SunSoar blood. Methinks you do not find that among your kitchen maids.”
Drago took a great breath, held it, and turned his back on RiverStar. “Leagh, Caelum would like you to –”
“Aha!” RiverStar laughed. “Our splendid leader has found a purpose for this all but useless man who stands before us. A messenger boy. Not an occupation imbued with pride, Drago, but perhaps it gives you some small purpose in life.”
Her barb finally found its mark. Drago whipped round to face his sister. “You’re nothing but a cold bitch, RiverStar,” he said with icy flatness. “You’d be happy enough left with a hound to couple with.”
He, in his turn, had stung deeply.
“You pathetic little human man!” RiverStar hissed, her face twisted with loathing. “I shall laugh over your grave! I will enjoy my lover on the sods above your mouldering flesh! I will –”
“That is enough,” Zenith said sharply. “Drago, what is it?”
Drago wrenched his eyes away from RiverStar, two red spots of anger in his cheeks, and half bowed to Leagh. To Zenith’s amazement his voice came out soft, almost gentle, and she wondered at the effort it must have cost him.
“Princess Leagh, I was walking up the main staircase when my brother Caelum called me to find you. He wishes your presence in the courtyard. The word from the sentries is that Zared and his escort ride towards the bridge.”
And then he stepped forward, and with the grace of a courtier offered a shocked and pale Leagh his arm and support.
7 Disturbing Arrivals (#ulink_3fc64c52-b935-509c-9c4c-866ad8a3dcb7)
Leagh could not control the skidding of her heart, nor the sudden cramp in her chest that made each breath a painful effort. Calm down! she berated herself, but it did not help. Zared was only moments away, and it had been so long since she’d seen him.
Drago did not say a word as he led her down the corridors and stairwells of Sigholt. Leagh leaned on him without embarrassment – without him, she thought, she could not walk – and Drago made no complaint.
It was late afternoon, and the Keep threw a deep shadow over the courtyard. Leagh stumbled slightly as she and Drago walked outside, and he tightened his arm and drew her in a little closer.
“Hope,” she thought she heard him say, but when she glanced at his face it was expressionless, his eyes elsewhere, and so she thought she had imagined it.
There were several ranks of soldiers lined up in the courtyard, their hands ready on the hilts of their swords to provide a welcoming salute. Caelum, dressed all in black, walked forward to greet her.
Askam was two or three steps behind.
Leagh saw Caelum exchange a hard glance with Drago, and she felt Drago stiffen at her side, but she had no time for further observation of the brothers’ enmity.
“Zared?” she asked Caelum, and was stunned to hear her voice come out cool. Calm, even.
“A minute away,” Caelum said. “No more.”
And, indeed, at that moment Leagh heard the bridge call out to Zared, welcoming him. The bridge did not challenge him, for Zared had been born within Sigholt’s walls, and she knew him well.
Almost before the bridge had finished her greeting there came the clatter of many hooves on the bridge, and Leagh had a moment of panic.
Gods, what was she wearing? A pale blue linen gown that could be called serviceable, nothing more. And her hair! Leagh’s free hand patted at her head, remembering with horror that this morning she’d left her hair in nothing but a single thick braid down her back.
“Leagh,” Zenith’s soft voice said behind her, “you look lovely. Do not fret.”
I should be greeting Zared in the audience chamber of our palace in Carlon, Leagh thought, resplendent in satins and jewels, not here in this dairymaid’s gown – and she had no more time for thought, for at that moment Zared rode into the courtyard.
She was the first thing he saw. Absolutely stunned, Zared pulled his horse to such a sudden, skittery halt that Herme and Theod, who rode directly behind him, had to rein their own mounts sharply to one side to avoid him.
“Leagh?” he whispered.
At that precise moment the ranked soldiers presented their swords and standards, and a trio of trumpeters high in Sigholt’s walls blew out a clarion of welcome.
In the sudden presentation of arms, and the flags and banners fluttering about, Zared lost sight of Leagh.
Frustrated, he leaped from his horse, ducked under its neck … and came face to face with an impassive StarSon Caelum.
“Prince Zared, I welcome you to Sigholt. May its doors always swing wide to greet you, and its bridge always sing you a greeting.”
Damn these polite receptions! Zared cursed. He tried to see past Caelum, but he only saw Askam further back in the gloom, and the first of the ranks of stony-faced soldiers.
“I thank you, StarSon,” he replied evenly. “I, as must my other companions among the Five, find myself somewhat surprised to be so suddenly called to Council.”
“You know why you are here,” Caelum said, his voice toneless, and Zared wondered how long Askam had been in Sigholt, and what he’d managed to whisper into Caelum’s ear. While not as close as their fathers had been, Caelum and Askam were nevertheless friends. “This disunity between you and Askam must finally be put to rest.”
Askam had whispered nothing complimentary, Zared thought. “Then I welcome the summons, StarSon. I wish for nothing more than peace and harmony within Tencendor.”
Caelum’s eyes had slipped behind Zared. “Herme? Theod? Why do you travel with Zared?”
“We met the Prince of the North coming through the lower Urqhart Hills,” Herme said easily, “and chose to ride the final leagues with him. Theod and myself thought to have our voices heard at this Council, as the weighty matter before it affects all those living in the West. As in the North.”
Far back in the column of Zared’s escort, Goldman and Heavorand pulled their hoods a little closer over their faces. No doubt Caelum’s enchanted eyesight could spot them if he chose, but they did not want Askam to see them. Their business was best conducted without their Prince knowing they were at Sigholt.
“Who gave you permission to attend this Council?” Askam stepped forward to Caelum’s shoulder. “Theod? You should be at home, attending your seasonal county courts. Herme? You should know better than to present your uninvited self at Sigholt!”
Theod was lost for words, but Herme replied smoothly. “I did not realise our freedom of movement – our choice of movement – was also subject to your whim, Sir Prince.”
“Enough!” Caelum snapped. Truly, Theod and Herme should have known better than to ride in with Zared as if he were their prince, not Askam! But Herme had also made a telling point, and Caelum did not regret the chance to hear from someone other than Askam how the West was responding to the taxes.
“You may stay, Sir Duke and Sir Earl,” he said, his tone more even now. “I shall organise an afternoon to speak with you, but I also reserve the right to invite you or bar you from Council as I please.”
He turned slightly and called to his steward. “Runton? Prepare chambers suitable for the Duke and Earl. Zared, perhaps you might like to dine with me tonight?”
Zared ignored his invitation. “Caelum,” he said softly. “What is Leagh doing here?”
Caelum stared at him a moment, then waved Leagh forward.
She hesitated, and the man at her side – Zared noticed with some surprise who it was – spoke softly in her ear. Leagh gave the smallest of nods, and then walked forward calmly to stand at Caelum’s side.
“Zared,” she said simply, her eyes fixed on his.
Zared opened his mouth, found he could say nothing, and so stepped forward, took her hand, and kissed her palm.
“I think we will resolve many things in Council,” Caelum said softly. “Not only the issue of taxes.”
The evening meal, held with due pomp in the Great Hall of Sigholt, was the longest Zared had ever endured in his life. All the heads of the Five were there, as were their captains, their lieutenants, Caelum’s brother and sisters, DareWing FullHeart and the other Crest-Leaders of the Strike Force, the mayor and entire council of Lakesview, their wives, as well as WingRidge CurlClaw, SpikeFeather TrueSong and fifteen assorted Enchanters.
Leagh … Leagh was seated not only across the broad banquet table, but seven places down! Zared had not the chance to speak one word to her, let alone touch her, hold her.
If the decision on their marriage was to be discussed – and then determined – in Council, then Zared knew what that decision would be. Damn Caelum – and every other member of the Council – to everlasting crippling arthritis for what they were going to do to him and Leagh! Did they not bed as they chose? Had not every one of them picked their own mate … save Caelum, of course, who yet lingered unmarried.
Zared went through the meal in a state resembling an angry fugue, replying only in monosyllables when he was addressed, pushing his meat about his plate until it went cold and congealed in its gravy, then tapping his fingers irritably against the linen-clothed table until Caelum finally rose and departed.
As the rest of the company scraped back chairs and got to their feet, Zared managed to catch Leagh’s eye, but no more. Askam placed a tight hand about her elbow and whisked her away before Zared could slip about the table to speak to her.
He stood, fuming with silent rage, as Herme paused behind him.
“Think how marriage to her would cement your claim to the throne, my prince,” he whispered. “Askam will never sire an heir. She would bring Achar to your marriage bed.”
Zared turned to stare at Herme, a muscle working in his cheek. “I want her as my wife because I love her!” he finally seethed. “Not for her inheritance!”
He pushed past the Earl of Avonsdale and strode away, but all he could think about on the long walk back to his chambers was whether or not, on that night atop Sigholt five years ago, his unspeaking mind had only seen Leagh standing before him … or the rich acres of the West as well.
Zenith was preparing for sleep when the gentle knock came at her door. Surprised, not knowing who could wish to speak with her this late, she slipped a wrap over her shoulders and opened the door.
Zared stood there, his face lined and tired, his eyes dark with unreadable emotion. “Zenith, you and I have always understood each other. Please, bring Leagh to me.”
Zenith stared at him, her mind in turmoil. By the gods, how she felt for both of them! Surely they deserved at least a private word – but, if left in private, how far might that “word” go? Their love was fraught with so much political tension, it carried such enormous consequences, that to even let them see each other …
Should she tell him that Caelum would not let the marriage take place? That there was no hope? No, there was no need. She could see by the pain in Zared’s eyes that he already understood.
“Zenith,” he said, reaching out and placing a hand on her arm. “Do this for me, and do it for Leagh.”
Zenith hesitated only a heartbeat longer, then she gave a curt nod. “Come with me.”
The corridors were darkened, only a few subdued torches lit to cast pitiful pools of light in isolated corners. Shadows flickered and lifted, seeming to envelop them in waves and then retreat, as if they had moved too far from the total darkness for their own comfort. Zenith led Zared to a room on the floor above his, at the end of the corridor.
He stopped, surprised. “This was my mother’s chamber!”
“And so here came Magariz to Rivkah, before they confessed their love to the world. Now, Zared, listen to me. I will wait outside. Keeping watch – but not only for those who might tread this way. I can also sense you, and what you do … do you understand?”
Zared nodded, his expression bitter.
“If you try to bed with her,” Zenith continued, her tone now as hard as Zared’s eyes, “I will know and I will stop you. You may speak with her, you may hold her, but you will not have the chance to win the West via the trickery of an illegitimate child!”
“Caelum has an utterly loyal sister in you!” Zared hissed, furious that Zenith would intrude upon them with her power.
“I am utterly loyal to Tencendor,” Zenith said quietly, holding Zared’s stare. “Treat Leagh with the respect that I have for the peace of our land.”
“Let me in, damn you!”
And Zenith opened the door.
The chamber was even darker than the corridor, for Leagh had apparently shuttered her windows tightly closed. Zared stood, trying to get his bearings, wondering if Leagh had heard his whispered conversation with Zenith.
