Children of Enchantment (37 page)

Amanander raised his face, his mouth twisted with disgust, his dark eyes cold and flat as deep water. “Your brother?”

Annandale touched Tavia’s hand and gave the older women a little squeeze. “This is your sister Tavia, Amanander. Don’t you
remember her? She was there when Jesselyn died. She was forced to watch while you killed her sister. Will you do the same
to all of us?” asked Annandale, wondering at her own bravado.

For the first time uncertainty flickered across Amanander’s face. Amazed, she realized her words had confused him, caught
him off guard. But how? she wondered. Why?

Then he was speaking, his speech clipped as though he sought to cover up his lapse. “I offer you all the opportunity to change
your allegiance, my dear. And if you do, I’ll welcome you with open arms.”

“And if we refuse?”

His eyes narrowed. Something licked at the edge of her awareness, a mental tap, and Annandale recognized with a shock that
Amanander was attempting to use the Magic. Energy surged again, stronger and faster, but less focused, and Annandale realized
that Amanander was still no master of the art. She took a step backward, shut her eyes and braced herself against the onslaught.
All around her, the weapons of the King’s Guard clattered to the ground, and some of the men fell screaming to their knees,
holding their heads. “Stop it, Amanander,” she cried. “You can’t win.”

Amanander nodded, his thin mouth curved in a chilling semblance of a smile, sweat beading his forehead. “So it’s to be war
between us, lady. As you will.” He made a quick motion and the dark soldiers closed in upon the King’s men. “Take them to
the guardhouse. Gartred—see to our guests.”

Annandale heard Peregrine’s soft gasp, and a short, full-breasted woman swept up, clad in a long gown of fine-spun linen,
so light and airy it seemed made of mist. Her lips were very red and her hair, which fell unbound to her waist, was long and
straight and dark as Amanander’s. She looked Annandale up and down as though she were a prize mare and put her hands on her
hips. “Even Roderic’s brat?” She gestured to Melisande. “Even that?”

“Even that.”

Gartred nodded. “Come with me, all of you.”

“Gently, Gartred,” warned Amanander. “This lady is our most honored guest.”

Gartred threw a look at Amanander, dark and full of meaning, and Annandale was instantly aware of resentment and jealousy.

Gartred made an impatient noise, and together, followed by Peregrine, who cradled Melisande close, they walked into the fortress
of Minnis Saul in the shadow of the walls which had never been breached.

The candle flickered in the dark, wavering uncertainly as a cool breeze blew through the window. Amanander’s boots made no
sound at all as he stalked into the room and paused just inside the threshold. Gartred stopped brushing her hair and smiled
at him over her shoulder from her seat in front of her dressing table. “You’re late, my prince.”

The hollows and the arches of her face were lit dramatically, giving her features a depth and a beauty they did not in reality
possess. Amanander watched her turn back to the mirror and resume brushing, her hair crackling under the strokes of the brush.

“Reginald sends good news. Although the Senador in At-land refuses to forget his Pledge of Allegiance, the lesser lordlings
there are ripe for rebellion.”

“And what about Everard? Isn’t he a thorn in Reginald’s side?” Gartred asked, watching Amanander in the mirror. She put down
her brush and leaned closer to the glass, examining the feathery lines at the corners of her eyes. She picked up a glass jar
full of scented cream.

Amanander waved a hand in dismissal. “That fool? Everard continues to believe the best of people. He can’t see what’s happening
beneath his very nose. With Harland in Missiluse on our side, and the lesser lords in Atland and Ginya, Reginald’s attack
on Ithan will come at just the right time.” He met her eyes in the mirror and smiled. “All our plans are coming to fruition.
There’s only one thing.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and she leaned back, rubbing her head against the bulge in his
groin. “Stop that,” he said impatiently. He went to the window and stood looking out over the gardens. In the distance came
the low rumble of thunder, and a sudden flash of lightning illuminated the budding branches of the trees. The weather was
about to break. “I must find a way to see that Roderic’s little bride will help me.”

Gartred made a little sound of protest and replaced the crystal lid. Her surprise was evident on her face. “Can’t you force
her?”

Amanander did not glance her way. He doubted he would ever be able to explain to the hen that there were certain things one
couldn’t accomplish by force. “No. I can’t.”

“You mean she must be willing?”

Amanander gave Gartred a stare, and she shivered. “I’ve explained this to you more than once. The empath must give consent—the
Magic will not work any other way.”

“Then use it without her.”

“Only if I must.”

“But, why—“

“Don’t be stupid, woman,” he snarled, his rage finally getting the better of him. “We have to find a way to compel her consent,
and then we may use the Magic as we like. Surely you don’t think I would be so foolish as to use the Magic to bring me the
throne, only to have it destroy half the country, as it did in Armageddon. Even Ferad hesitates. Why do you think he’s been
content to wait and bide his time?”

Gartred rose to her feet, her garments swirling and floating like mist, and went to stand beside him in the shadows. “Forgive
me, Lord Prince. I know there’s much I don’t understand.”

Her use of that title brought a grudging smile to his lips, as it always did. “Even if she will not consent to help use the
Magic, her ability will be useful to us in the coming months.”

Gartred raised her eyebrows, and he knew she didn’t dare ask him the obvious question.

The knowledge of her fear satisfied him. “In the coming battle, my dear. Surely you understand that Roderic will not surrender
without a fight?”

“Of course,” she answered. “You mean her healing—but that must be done willingly, too, no?”

“From what I have learned from Ferad, the empath’s very nature makes it nearly impossible for her to refuse to heal. Pain
is intolerable to them.”

They lapsed into silence, standing side by side. Thunder rumbled once more in the distance, and the first few fat drops of
rain fell with a loud splash on the windowsill.

The knock on the door startled Gartred. “Who’s that?” she asked sharply.

There was a silence, and then the low voice of the guard answered. “May I enter, lord?”

Amanander glanced over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised in surprise. “Enter.”

The door swung open, and one of Amanander’s special guards stepped into the room, holding Peregrine Anuriel by the upper arm.
“This prisoner requests to speak with you, lord.” The flat monotone sent a chill down Gartred’s spine as always, and she glanced
up at Amanander. His reaction surprised her even more.

He smiled, a genuine smile of welcome, and bowed courteously. “Of course, lady. Lieutenant, take the lady to my sitting room.
I’ll join you in a moment.”

“What do you want to do with that little drudge?” demanded Gartred as she folded her arms across her bosom. “Why—what—“

“Silence!” He raised his hand as if to slap her, and she shrank away, a bitter scowl twisting her features. “That little drudge,
as you call her, may be very useful to us. She may love her dear Prince Roderic, but she hates—she despises—his little wife.
And she might have some use—but I won’t know that unless you keep your mouth shut. Do you understand me, my lady? Or must
I gag you or knock you senseless?”

“How do you know all this?” asked Gartred with a sidelong pout. She knew he was more than capable of beating her senseless,
for she had seen him do it to servants who’d displeased him for far less.

“Because I might not have been able to reach that little witch, but that one—” he jerked his head in the direction of the
sitting room “—is an open book for anyone to read. Let’s see what she has to say, shall we?”

Hatred burned bright in her eyes as she stared at him, then she dropped her eyes and clenched her hands together. “If I must.”

“Then come, my dear. We mustn’t keep the lady waiting.”

Standing beside the cold grate, Peregrine was startled when the two of them walked back into the room. They were so perfectly
matched, and yet so opposite, the plump, bosomy woman in sheerest white, the tall man all in black. Gartred took a chair in
the corner, folded her hands and dropped her gaze. Peregrine glanced nervously at Amanander. “Will you not sit, lady?” His
voice was soft and not unpleasant, she thought, low and resonant, like a great bell.

Another flash of lightning split the night sky, and thunder echoed in the distance. He smiled. “Please.”

She slipped into the chair he indicated, a deep chair with a high back and arms. In it, she felt protected, as though she
might sink into its soft depths and be hidden away from his dark eyes, which seemed to probe her own. “Thank you for seeing
me at this hour.”

“I’m happy to oblige you in any way I can, Lady Peregrine. How may I be of service?” From the corner, Gartred made a sound
which might have been a hiss, and Amanander shot a look in her direction.

Peregrine drew her upper lip between her teeth. This was the man who was Roderic’s sworn enemy, the man who wanted Roderic’s
throne. This was the man who thought he should be King. But maybe, she thought, they were all wrong about him. Tavia said
that he had killed Jesselyn and tried to kill Vere, but maybe she’d been wrong. After all, in the state Tavia’d been in, who
could say? And besides, he certainly didn’t look very threatening as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his long legs.
A little smile played at the corners of his mouth, and she thought he looked a little—sad. “I know that this means war between
you and Roderic.”

Amanander raised one eyebrow and made a little sound of protest. “That will be his choice, lady. I am hopeful that we will
be able to work out our differences peacefully. Without further bloodshed.”

“Nevertheless,” she said, “I know that we are all hostages, should war be inevitable. And I came to ask you to send my daughter,
Melisande, away. Please. Let her go—I’ll do anything—help you any way I can—“

“You would betray your Prince?” Amanander spoke softly, guilelessly.

“I don’t see it that way,” she stammered, her words tripping over each other. “I only need to make my baby safe—surely you
understand?”

“Of course, Lady Peregrine. Of course I do. May I call you Peregrine?”

“Yes,” she answered, twisting her hands in the fabric of her gown. “You may.”

“It’s a beautiful name. Very unusual.”

“I was named for my father. He was an unusual person.”

“Oh?” Amanander cocked his head. “How so?”

She stared at him in surprise. No one, not even Roderic, in all the time she’d been in Ahga, had ever asked her anything but
the most cursory questions about her youth, her family. She understood Ahga was the center of the country, the center of everything.
Nothing that happened outside of it was ever as important as what happened inside it.

“You look surprised,” he said when she did not answer.

“I—I cannot believe what I see in you.” She raised her chin as another flash of lightning illuminated the room, and far away,
a distant peal of thunder echoed. A fat drop of rain fell upon the sill. She shivered as the wind howled around the building.

Amanander rose and crossed to the window. “Don’t let the storm frighten you. It’s beautiful, I think, rather like music. Listen.”
He held up his hand.

As if on cue, the wind gave a mournful wail and the rain began to fall faster. Thunder rolled like a great drum, and just
as she met his eyes, lightning cracked and the room was lit by its bluish glare. Her heart began to beat faster. He smiled
again and pulled the window shut. The latch clicked as it fell into place like the spring of a mousetrap. When he turned back,
he spread his hands. “I know what the others have told you about me,” he said. “I know what Roderic believes.”

“They say you want the throne.”

He did not answer her immediately, but a pained look crossed his face as though her words had hit a very sore spot. “I took
an oath of allegiance. We all do—you know that?”

Mute, she nodded, waiting to hear him continue. His voice rose and fell with a lyrical rhythm, so entrancing, just listening
filled her with a curious pleasure.

“And in the oath of allegiance, we swear to uphold the kingdom and the King, with our lives, if we must.” He was watching
her face very carefully. His eyes pinned her to the chair, and the sound of his voice was like a caress, deftly coaxing all
thoughts from her mind. “And sometimes, inevitably, what one man perceives to be in the best interests of the kingdom is not
so perceived by others.” He paused, and she found herself waiting, willing, wishing for him to continue. He gave her just
the merest suggestion of a smile. “I know you love Roderic. I know he is the father of your child. I know she must mean more
to you than even life itself.”

Peregrine nodded.

“I know you would never, ever, wish any harm to come to her. And I know that it must grieve you greatly to know what her father
is capable of doing.”

“He—he had to marry,” she managed.

“Marry?” Amanander looked surprised. “Oh. I was speaking of Atland.”

“Atland?” Peregrine felt as though a warm mist had pervaded her entire body. The rain had settled into a steady drumbeat,
and the thunder had faded to a low rumble. The candles burned steadily, and the room was filled with their hot, waxy scent.

“Atland. Of course he told you. It must have shocked you greatly to think that the father of your child could be so cruel—“

“Cruel?”

Amanander’s voice unfurled like a velvet cloak. “He didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me? Tell me what? What happened in Atland?”