CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

The rain had passed when Shironne woke, feeling as if it had all been a dream. A chilly finger jabbed at her cheek again. “Hurry, wake up,” Melanna whispered.

The heavy bedding tucked tightly about Shironne held her captive. She struggled into a sitting position, trying to recollect where she’d washed up last night. The weight on the bed bounced away, Melanna going to tell Mama that she’d finally awoken.

Shironne recalled ending up in this incense-scented bed somewhere on the third floor of the palace. Lady Amdiria’s two guards had placed her in a room not used for years. They’d found her a nightdress, made for Lady Sera but never worn, and even dug up new linens for the bed. Then she’d had a hot bath. Isolated from everything by the muffling water, she usually didn’t care for baths, but this once she’d relaxed in its comforting warmth; safe, unlike the cold grasp of the river.

Her cousin Kai would survive. Shironne knew that without asking, because Mikael knew it. She had a distant sense of him now, busy with some errand or assignment. He’d gone down into the city, she realized, tying up loose ends.

Her mother entered the room, and Melanna jumped up on the bed again, exuberant in her curiosity. Mama sat down next to her and took Shironne’s hand in her own. The familiar scent of vanilla and sandalwood surrounded her.

“Are you all right?” Shironne asked, sensing her anxiety.

It frightened Mama to have everything spun so far beyond her control, Shironne could tell. Savelle Anjir could no longer deny her relationship to the king—not given the fact that they sat in the king’s household in the palace and that her daughter wore a princess’ nightgown.

Shironne fingered the gown’s silk embroidery. She wanted to reassure Mama but couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t sound childish.

A brisk presence entered the room, one of the guards returning. Perrin trailed her. Even from the doorway, Shironne could feel her sister’s confusion and exultation. Now that Perrin knew of their royal uncle, she was probably going to be insufferable.

The quarterguard took command of them, driving Perrin and Melanna back into the sitting room and bullying Shironne out of the bed. Half an hour later, Shironne had been tidied, dressed up like a doll in more of the absent Sera’s unused garments, and set down to a very belated breakfast in the next room over. Since she’d never eaten dinner the day before, she slowly consumed most of the meal laid before her, Melanna cheerfully joining her in a second breakfast. Fortunately, someone had told the kitchens to keep their presentation simple.

When Shironne finished eating, she spent a long while with her mother and sisters, relating some of what had passed the day before. The story made Perrin afraid and grateful it hadn’t been her. Melanna enjoyed the tale, particularly relishing the fact that Shironne had turned the priest’s gift back on him. Clearly, she didn’t understand the implications of it.

Her mother worried, being wise enough to know that Shironne had left a great deal unsaid.

Afterward Melanna insisted that Shironne finish her book with her. With nothing better to do than wait, Shironne sat next to her, listening to her sister’s childish voice as she struggled her way through the very last chapter. Rather predictably, their hero won out and then swore his undying love for the wailing heroine. Shironne suppressed laughter at the disgusted tone of Melanna’s voice.

Later in the afternoon Dahar arrived, the colonel behind him. Both men radiated exhaustion, which made Shironne want to return to the bedroom and crawl into the overlarge bed with its clean sheets.

“Eli, would you take the two young ladies out to the courtyard?” Dahar suggested to someone outside the room. “Perhaps you could show them the gardens.”

The self-satisfied runner Shironne had met the previous day—Gabriel’s cousin, Eli—entered the hall, immediately capturing Perrin’s attention. He asked if Miss Perrin and Miss Melanna would come with him. He must be handsome, or Perrin wouldn’t be so eager to go. Her sisters followed him from the room. Shironne felt gratified they hadn’t sent her away, a tacit admission that they didn’t consider her a child, or not too much of one.

“We do have a few things we need to discuss,” Dahar said then.

Shironne grasped her mother’s hand, and even through her gloves read her mother’s resignation.

Her mother sighed. “Very well.”

“I don’t know if you are aware,” Dahar began, “that your husband’s mother came from the same clan as the priests of Farunas. We aren’t certain how close their relationship actually is.”

“Shironne told me,” Mama said. “I’m not surprised—that Tornin might have had such an ability, even if he denied it.”

“He would have gathered information by touch, Savelle,” Cerradine said. “A sensitive would probably have noticed if he tried to tamper with them, but others wouldn’t.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I’ve . . .”

Shironne didn’t say anything. She’d always suspected Mama knew far more about Father than she’d ever admit.

Cerradine went on. “Our concern is that we don’t know whether any of the priests sent word back to their clan about Shironne and her powers, or if your husband told anyone before he died. I’d like to keep my people where they are in your household until we’ve had time to assess the risk that they might come after her.”

Shironne didn’t flinch. She’d known from the moment she’d touched Ramanet that it was a very real possibility.

“We could move your family here, into the palace,” Dahar offered. “This wing is mostly empty. The House of Valaren also owns several estates, if you’d like to leave the city for a time.”

Her mother considered the offer, mind spiraling in uneasiness. “There will be talk,” she said hesitantly.

“Doubtless,” Dahar said. “My aide has gone down to speak with the editors at the various newspapers. He’ll make certain Shironne’s name stays out of the press, I promise.”

Ah, so that’s where Mikael’s gone.

Her mother reflected relief. “Thank you.”

The colonel came then and took Shironne’s hand, suggesting in a whisper that they leave her mother and Dahar alone for a time. He led Shironne from the room under the curious attention of the quarterguards and down many stairs until they came to the stone steps that led from the back of the palace down to the courtyard. Shironne could smell the stables and sun-warmed stone.

“I’m glad Kai is doing better,” she said when they stopped on the landing.

The colonel laid her hand on the wall, indicating they should wait there. “Yes, I don’t know how Dahar would manage losing him.”

While Kai would be physically well soon, Shironne doubted his heart would heal quite so quickly. “He’ll blame himself for Tova’s death,” she said.

“He should,” Cerradine said bluntly. “He could have caused yours as well. There’s enough blame to go around for everyone this time, except for you.”

“Kai thinks . . .” She wasn’t sure if she should broach the topic, but she did anyway. “Kai doesn’t think that Dahar is his father. Is that true?”

Cerradine sighed heavily. “I don’t know.”

The way he said that suggested that he didn’t know but had a strong opinion on the matter anyway. Poor Kai. “Wouldn’t it be better if he knew for certain?”

“There are times when people want to bury the past,” the colonel said. “When it’s painful, and can’t be changed, why spend time fretting over it?”

“Like knowing the truth about my mother’s family? Or my father’s family?” She didn’t know what to make of the fact that she had relatives in Pedrossa—relatives who might have a power like hers. Who might consider her worth stealing.

“I see your point,” the colonel said. “Yet it’s never mattered to Dahar.”

It did to Kai, though.

Shironne sensed Mikael’s approach then, as he came through the back doors of the palace. She suddenly divined why the colonel had brought her out to the steps.

“I’m going to go up and check on your mother. Make certain she hasn’t strangled Dahar,” the colonel added with a chuckle. “I’ll leave you in Mikael’s hands for now. We should be ready to leave in, say, a quarter hour or so?” The colonel walked back into the palace, abandoning her there on the steps.