THE NEXT DAY, Issa went to visit the ekhono, refugees who had come to Weirland from Rurik. They were housed past the courtyard, beneath the guardhouse beside the castle pastures, underground. Once, Issa had asked her father why he kept them hidden. He had told her that the purpose was to keep those who had newly arrived from Rurik safe. Otherwise, King Haikor’s spies might find them and do them harm, even in Weirland.
It was cool and dark inside the ekhono refuge, with a deeply peaceful quiet that was one of the things that drew her back there often. Her father knew of her trips there and did not disapprove, and Issa liked it that the ekhono from Rurik did not treat her with the same caution and formality that her own people did.
The damp smell grew more intense once Issa entered the elaborate underground courtyard. Here, heavy sunflowers, black currant bushes, and creeping moss grew with neweyr drawn from underneath the ground. Light came in from openings cut into the dirt ceiling and candles placed at regular intervals along the walls. Within the refuge were nearly a hundred ekhono from Rurik. They typically stayed for a year or more. Once they could prove that they could use their weyr well, they were placed in homes around Weirland where there were those willing to protect the ekhono. Some married and had children, but most lived rather solitary lives and were unable to inherit property or to run a business without help.
In the courtyard, both men and women were sewing and knitting, cleaning skins and making boots. There were a few young mothers who had brought their children with them out of Rurik, playing and cooking food over a large hearth that vented upwards through a chimney. But mostly, the ekhono were youths and a little older, those who had come to Weirland to be able to show their weyrs freely. They were all familiar to Issa from her previous visits, except a man standing by Kedor, a bright youth whom Issa had met two years ago. She moved toward the man, thinking that he must have come recently to the refuge.
But when he turned, Issa realized it was Duke Kellin. He looked up at the same moment and seemed startled.
“Princess Marlissa,” he said.
Issa glanced back and forth between Kedor and Kellin. She had not noticed the similarity between them earlier, but now that he was standing next to Kedor, she could see that they had the same dark coloring, the same pointed chin and sharp eyes. They were quite obviously brothers.
It seemed that there was more than one reason for Duke Kellin’s journey to Weirland. Had he come before? If so, she had not seen him.
“Kedor,” said Issa. She did not know what else to say.
“Good to see you again, Princess Marlissa. And this is—” Kedor began.
“She knows very well who I am,” said Kellin, his chin lifted. “And now that you know the truth about my brother, what will you do with that information?”
“You may count on my discretion,” she said, determined to give a better impression than earlier in the Throne Room.
“Oh?” Kellin seemed dubious.
“I swear to you, I shall tell no one.”
“Not even your father, who could use the information to force me to give him more favorable conditions for the betrothal?” asked Kellin.
Issa paused a moment, thinking how difficult it would be for Kellin to explain to King Haikor how King Jaap had managed that. “Not even him,” she said. Why did Kellin have to think the worst of her at every step? She had not come here to embarrass him. She only meant to help the ekhono.
“Thank you.” Kellin nodded.
“Your father says that it won’t be long before I leave here,” said Kedor, sounding happy. “I’m almost fully trained in the use of neweyr.”
“Would you like me to show you the sunflower again?” asked Issa. She had done several lessons with Kedor, trying to get him to use the proper amount of neweyr for flowers, so they did not grow too large and rip their stalks out of the ground. It was one of the reasons there were so many sunflowers here, for their neweyr was tricky and hard to handle.
“That would be very kind of you,” said Kedor.
“Do you know how many years he has been waiting here?” asked Kellin, a sour look on his face. He did not wait for her to answer. “Nearly three, and there is still no place for him? It is hardly better than Rurik for the ekhono here in Weirland.”
“In Rurik, your brother would be dead, would he not?” said Issa. “That is why you brought him here. And that is why you are able to come visit him.”
“I visit him in this prison,” said Kellin angrily.
“My father has his reasons for what he does. I’m sure if you asked him—” said Issa.
“You promised you would not speak to him of this. I am here as Duke Kellin of Rurik, the right-hand man of King Haikor. I cannot be known to have any connections to the ekhono.”
Issa put up a hand. “I only meant that my father has reasons for what he does here in the underground. He wants to protect the ekhono, from their own untrained weyrs if necessary, but also from the people of Weirland who are unsure of them. There are far more ekhono in Weirland now than there were in previous years, and some are uneasy about it.”
“Kellin, whatever you think of the king, I have heard many speak of the kindness of Princess Marlissa,” Kedor interrupted.
Issa blushed at this compliment and turned to the young man. He would be very handsome in a few years, perhaps even more so than his brother. “You are so sweet,” she said. “Thank you.” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
Kedor turned bright red. “Thank you, Princess Marlissa,” he said. “I hope that you will rule many years after your father.”
There was a silence and Duke Kellin began to laugh. “Kedor, think about what you say first.”
Kedor looked at Issa, confused. “Did I offend you?” he asked.
“No, of course not,” said Issa. “It is only—there might be more than one way to interpret what you said.”
“I don’t—” said Kedor, and then he went white. “I meant, when your father has ruled many more years,” he added haltingly. “I do not look forward to his death, of course. I only meant that you will be a fine queen. Not that he is not a fine king. Nor that your mother was not a fine queen. Though I never met her, but I hear from others that she was much beloved. As I know you will be. Not that you are not loved right now.”
“I cannot rule as queen alone,” said Issa. It was apparent Kellin had not told his brother his true reason for being here, about her betrothal or about Prince Edik. “If I married my cousin who is in line for the throne, I might be queen. But it does not look likely now.”
“I can’t see why. Any man who met you would fall in love with you immediately,” said Kedor. “I’m sure you must have lines of men waiting to ask for your hand in marriage.”
Duke Kellin shook his head. “Enough, Kedor,” he said.
The young man stopped. Issa could see a pinched expression appear on Kedor’s face and she felt sorry for him.
“It is time for me to leave now,” she said, suddenly aware that she did not belong here, that she was intruding.
“Please come back to visit again soon, Your Highness,” said Kedor shyly. “For my sake, if not for my brother’s. I think he spends so much time being agreeable to King Haikor that he has to save up his rudeness and expend it here.”
Issa wondered how often Kellin had come to visit his brother, since Kedor had come to live here. How often could he make an excuse to get away from King Haikor’s court?
“My brother is indeed the better of the two of us,” said Duke Kellin. “He has always had an open heart and an open countenance.”
“But I have not had your difficulties, Kellin,” said Kedor. “You know that you would not have become like this except that you were trying to save me.”
“Would I not?” said Duke Kellin. “It is impossible to know. But I don’t think I was ever quite like you, Kedor.”
“You are the survivor,” said Kedor. “I would never have managed in your place.”
“Oh? You might be surprised to discover how one can change, when one must. Your life was at stake, and the lives of all our people,” Duke Kellin replied.
“The duke of Falcorn is not known to have a brother,” said Issa, thinking aloud.
“I died,” said Kedor, winking at her. “Three years ago.”
“You look very well for being dead so long,” said Issa.
“Thank you. I feel well for being dead so long.”
Duke Kellin said, “He had an accident. On a horse.”
“I was never much good on a horse,” added Kedor.
“Then it is well that my father did not ask you to be a stable boy,” said Issa.
“You are not what I expected you to be, Princess Marlissa,” said Kellin.
“Issa,” she corrected. “And what did you expect? Claws and horns?”
“Quite the opposite. Clouds and sunshine. A girl who had never seen sadness and would be blown away by the first hint of a cold wind.”
That was how he had treated her, and perhaps what she had deserved. She had acted like a spoiled princess. “I have faced winds,” said Issa. Her mother’s death, for one. And now, this betrothal with Prince Edik.
“I suppose you have. It is too bad for you and Kedor, though. He is already in love with you, I fear. You should have stayed away, and kept him safe from a broken heart.”
“You are cruel, Kellin,” Kedor complained. “You make me glad to be away from you for so much time.”
It was not true, Issa thought. He obviously adored his older brother.
“Well, then perhaps I shall not come back,” said Kellin.
“And perhaps I shall not miss you,” said Kedor.
The two laughed together.
“He knows I would never leave him alone,” said Kellin, turning to Issa.
“You could stay in Weirland, then,” Issa offered suddenly. “And you would not have to be away from him at all.” Her father would offer Duke Kellin refuge, surely, if he offered it to the ekhono. Or was she being the spoiled, naïve princess again to think this was possible?
“Rurik is my kingdom and I am bound to it, to King Haikor, and to Prince Edik,” said Kellin.
“There are others who could take your place, surely,” said Issa.
“There are not, Princess Marlissa,” said Kellin coolly, moving away from her.
Issa left the courtyard moments afterward, conscious of the fact that in Rurik, she would not be able to express any concern for the ekhono, that they would not be visible at all if they were to survive there. In fact, her own life would soon be so changed she did not know if she would recognize herself.