The Twelve Kingdoms: The Mark of the Tala (28 page)

He tucked his hands in his pockets and strolled down the hillside, whistling like Thalia’s little songbird.

I walked myself to the center of the arena. The moon hadn’t risen yet and the sun still shone warm and golden on the sea. That hadn’t mattered to the children, though. Nor had their clothes. Still, to be safe, I set my ring and necklace to the side.

That could have been me. It could have been all three of us, growing up here in this lovely, magical place, playing games and shifting from one creature to the next. Amelia would have loved it. Even Ursula, with her love of contests, would have excelled at this. Surely they had the possibility of this gift as much as I? I might have the mark that supposedly meant I could talk to this heart, but other Tala couldn’t and they could still shift. Given the right circumstances—and our mother’s blood—perhaps they, too, could learn. I could teach them so they could know the joy of it.

Joy. Not fear.

Fun.

Do what comes naturally.

Enjoy
, Rayfe had said, flashing that devastating smile.

So I did. I thought of riding Fiona, the wind streaming through my hair, the pounding of her muscles that I knew as well as my own.

And I was her. My great heart pumped and I took off, playing like the children, racing as fast as I could around the perimeter of the arena, my sharp hooves clattering on the stone. I returned to my spot and let myself resolve back into shape. The red dress looked only a little tattered.

I did it.

The pleasure of the discovery boiled through me, and I wrapped my arms around myself, throwing my head back to laugh. This was my mother’s gift. The gift of my people.

And I knew she was proud of me.

I
found my way back to the house fairly easily from this direction, still giddy with success. I’d managed to become the horse and the big cat several times. The predator’s mind still shook me a bit, but I was becoming more used to it. Perhaps tomorrow, I could take Fiona to the beach and run with her.

My suite of rooms stood empty, as did our shared bedroom. I hesitated before the closed door leading to Rayfe’s rooms, uncertain of the protocol. Did I knock? Maybe he wasn’t even back yet. And my news would keep. In some ways, I liked keeping it to myself for a little while longer. My secret joy.

A tray of food and wine had been left for me by some thoughtful person, so I took it out on my balcony and sat with my bare feet propped up on the balustrade and watched the last of the light fade from the sky. I had lost my slippers during one of the shifts—oops—so I was glad to have retrieved my jewelry from its safe spot. The tropical night caressed my skin and the wine was delicious. The Tala really had a point with this “enjoying life” stuff.

“Andromeda?”

“Out here, Garland!”

My welcoming smile faded in the face of her grim expression. I set my feet and my wineglass down. “What’s wrong?”

“Rayfe sent a message. Hugh’s troops have entered the valley and joined with Ursula’s. He’s riding out with a guerrilla force to stop them from reaching the entrance to the pass.”

The blood fell out of my head and I saw him, lying in the snow, the blood radiating out in a scarlet halo, his dark-blue eyes glassy and sightless. Like a familiar aching tooth, it stabbed at me, and I let the pain in, let it fade away again.

My private nightmare had arrived.

While I recovered myself, I noticed the way Garland wrung her hands. She wasn’t worried for Rayfe. Garland was afraid of what I would do.

“Why worry about the entrance to the pass? Let the barrier stop them.”

She looked more ashen, if possible. “Part-bloods have been streaming in all day. The barrier has fallen.”

“What? Why?”

“We think—it could be because you’re inside and the heart hasn’t received further instructions. But it might hear you at any time, so Rayfe wants you safe here.”

“Did he leave any particular instructions for me?” I asked, trying to sound calm, but my emotions frayed beneath it.

“He asked that you remain here, to guard the city.”

“Should I embroider something, perhaps? Make him a sigil to wear into glorious battle? Or maybe I should just stand on the balcony and yell at the heart to put the barrier back up.”

“Andromeda.” Her blue eyes glinted like Rayfe’s when she became angry. “What if you went out and couldn’t get back in? All of our sacrifices would be for naught.”

“Salena left,” I pointed out. “And you’re all still here.”

“But Salena—”

“She gave me a message for you.”

That set her aback. Her face hardened. “I don’t appreciate you taking advantage of my confidences by—”

I shook my head, the hair slapping around my face. Frustrated, I yanked it back, weaving it into a single braid down my back. I already knew what I would do.

“I found a—a kind of spell. A message she left for me. I talked to her, Garland.”

“Even Salena didn’t know how to do that.”

“Then she learned.”
And where did she learn that?
I wondered. “She asked me to tell you she thought of you every day. She kept some seashell.”

Garland paled. “You know about the seashell?”

I finished my braid and went to the dressing room to find something to tie it off with. “No. I never saw it. She said you would know what she meant.”

“I do.”

“She said she wished your son the best. Wished him to live up to his early promise, which we can all see he has. She hoped you had more children and regretted we didn’t all grow up together. Though, seeing as how things worked out, that might have been for the best.”

I surveyed the closet for something to ride in and wondered where in the name of Moranu my fighting leathers had gone to. A little halting sound caught my attention, and I saw Garland had tears streaming down her face.

“Oh, Garland, I’m sorry. That was thoughtless.” My anger at Rayfe’s high-handedness had blinded me. Like Uorsin storming through Ordnung in a rage.
Better watch that in yourself.
I stepped toward her and she held up a hand to stop me, turned toward the mirror to clean up her face.

“It was long ago. Funny how these old sorrows seal over and you’re fine until something breaks them open—and you feel it fresh all over again. You’re right, Andromeda.” She started rifling through the drawers. “It’s good you and Rayfe did not grow up together. Meant, perhaps, even if Salena didn’t foresee it. Or maybe she did.”

She handed me a stack of neatly folded leather—all black. “I didn’t think you’d need these so soon, but here.”

I examined the leathers, modeled after my others, but new and matching Rayfe’s. I raised questioning brows at Garland. She shrugged.

“Salena left for a reason. You are who you are—as much a child of that one as this. Who am I to stand in the way of that?”

I tossed the leathers down and hugged her. “Thank you,” I whispered in her ear. “Your blessing means a great deal.”

“Just—please, be careful.” She mock-frowned at me. “I’ve only barely gotten to know you. I’d like to know more. And no matter what you think, we need you. More, we want you here.”

“Thank you.” I smiled at her, my lips feeling trembly. Some warrior I was making. “Now, do you have any idea how I can get the barrier back up? How do I communicate with it?”

A line appeared between her brows. “If Salena went to lengths to leave you a message, didn’t she say? I always understood it to be a secret passed from mother to daughter.”

“Of course she didn’t say—that would have been too easy.” My frustration came out in the bitter tone. Feeling this pressure did not help. I flopped on the bed and took a deep breath, letting the swimming fish in the mosaic above soothe me. What was I missing?

“Knowing my people—and our queens—it would not be easy. Likely there’s a series of tests involved. Maybe there’s a clue in something she said?”

Trust the animal within. That is the first and that is the heart.
She had mentioned the heart then. Right after she showed me the animals.

And the fish.

Staring up at the image above, I felt the first stirrings of triumph.

Thank you, Mother.

Garland showed me the path to the beach, with raised eyebrows at the request, but no comment. We wended down and down and down, until my booted heels sank in the soft sand of the shimmering beach, impossibly white under the round moon. The song—the one that first propelled me to the fateful meeting with Rayfe—ran into my head.

I should have known all along. I wondered who watched from the dark of the sea. I supposed I was about to find out.

“You can leave your things here, if you wish,” Garland told me. “I’ll wait for you.”

I eyed the water dubiously, having never learned to swim. “Should I strip down and swim? I don’t want to be a fish onshore, right?”

She laughed. “Unless you’re already good at changing size, too, that might be a good idea. A you-sized fish would be difficult to push into the water.”

Not willing to risk my weapons or new leathers—especially if it meant more delays in getting to Rayfe’s side—I stripped down while Garland politely averted her eyes. I braced myself, tiptoeing into the water, but this was no bracing mountain lake. This sea welcomed me like a warm bath.

Okay, big test, Andi
. I tried to focus on that sense of joy and play. If only I had more time. But we were out of time. Rayfe, dead in the snow, the crimson blood . . .
Stop it
.

“It might be too soon,” Garland said, quiet, without censure. “You don’t have to try this yet.”

She didn’t know what I saw for her son. I wondered how she’d withstand the loss of him, too. It would not happen. I could not let it happen.

“I can do this.” I said it as much for myself as for her.

Then I did. I felt my blood swim, as if tiny guppies were traveling through my veins like the birds before, and my skin change.

I gasped for breath, flopping against the sand as a wave retreated. I hadn’t been deep enough, and I was too big, stranded above the surf. Then Garland waded in and shoved at me while another wave swamped over—and sweet water filled my gills. I plunged into the returning waves.

And entered, for the first time, the foreign undersea world.

I perceived it with my whole body, it seemed. Not seeing it so much as feeling the infinite shades of seaweed forests, the millions of coral creatures and swarms of other fish, gliding by. All in scintillating, variegated detail. I could feel the barrier reef farther out and tasted the cold winter sea battering at the other side of it. Not that way.

Knowing no other direction, I swam down.

I passed wonders I’d never guessed at. The unknown artist who’d made the mosaic over my marriage bed had surely been here. I wondered if it had been Salena herself, though no one mentioned art as one of her talents. Colors were the same and not. Cobalt became a smell, orange a sound like a bell. Magic shimmered through it all, as if I passed through it in condensed form.

I swam deeper.

The waters cooled and darkened.
Deep, frozen waters
. I felt like I couldn’t breathe as well, my gills straining. Fear sickened me as the water pressed hard, crushing me in its fist. But that image of Rayfe, of Uorsin’s army pouring over Annfwn, drove me on.

Likely there’s a series of tests involved.

A large shadow, outlined in pinpoint phosphorescence, drifted past with ponderous ease. Adjusting my shape, I became that and breathed easier. And went deeper.

Finally, below me, a glow shimmered. It smelled of emerald and sounded like sugared berries. I headed for it and the pressure around me lessened. Warmed water surged through my gills. A golden wall held in the glow. I bumped my fishy nose against it and it gave slightly.

I pushed more. It sizzled like snowflakes on hot skin and I remembered Rayfe kissing me as the snow fell around us on our wedding day. Such a short time to grow to love so much.

I threw myself into the barrier, wriggling through it, feeling the sticky mucus of its song strip away my fish body until I popped through, once again my human self, into a bubble of warm air with nothing inside but a simple chair.

No one waited for me.

I’d hoped there might be some sort of guidance at this point, but apparently I was on my own. Yet another test. So be it, then.

Outside the barrier, the water looked opaque, no longer teeming with all my fish self had perceived. No moonlight made its way down this deep.

I shivered, realizing I was the one watching from the dark of the sea.

Spinning around, I went to the chair and sat. It was made of something pink and polished smooth, cupping my naked behind with surprising comfort. My palms rested naturally on the arms. I let my head fall back and I stared up at the deep black water surrounding me. My mother had sat here, and my ancestresses before her. What had they done?

Then I saw them. What I hadn’t before.

Thousands of crabs crawled over the outside of the globe, the gold light catching the deep blue of their shells. They crowded in, watching me. Waiting.

Listening.

Understanding at last, I spoke to them. There, in the heart of Annfwn’s magic.

I rode Fiona out of the city, through the dark before dawn, while Moranu’s moon dropped behind me, lighting my way. Rayfe’s long dagger lay across the saddle before me, while my own sat at my hip. I’d tied the fur cloak Rayfe had given me on our wedding day to the back of the saddle. No doubt the winter chill of Mohraya would bite that much more now.

“This is beginning to feel like a thing for me,” I remarked to Fiona, and she twitched her ears back at me. I paused a moment before entering the grassy meadow, for a last look at the lovely sea with the white-sand beach so bright in the moonlight, the dark waters quiet, giving no hint of the world that flourished beneath. I wondered if I’d ever see it again. Forever in my mother’s footsteps, here I might also be leaving Annfwn forever, if that’s what it took to keep Uorsin out.