Reader and Raelynx (13 page)

For a moment Cammon’s hands tightened on the top rail of the fence. He could sense Amalie. He could
read
her. Valri’s cloaking magic had been lifted and Amalie was like a sunlit golden room he could simply stroll inside. He stood at the open doorway, dazzled by what he could glimpse from the threshold. Bright intelligence, swift comprehension, limitless fascination with the world around her. Her mind was like a darting bird too delighted with the bounty before it to want to settle. He could see it, flashing from window to window inside the illuminated chamber of her skull.

He closed his eyes and willed himself to walk away.

This was what Valri was protecting Amalie from, nasty intrusive strangers who would stomp all over those unmarred golden vistas, who would peer inside her and try to read her or try to rearrange her. Valri was protecting Amalie from
him
, from people like him, anyway, readers or, no—people who wanted to invade or dismantle that alluring, untouched space. Amalie was too open, too impressionable, and Valri knew it, and that was why Valri had been so afraid when Amalie could hear the words that Cammon sent her way. What other influences would Amalie succumb to, how could she ever be safe?

Cammon turned his head and put walls up around his own mind and felt himself hunker down behind their shadows.

Amalie touched his arm. “What’s wrong?” she asked. Her face was creased with concern.

He made himself smile and shake his head. “Nothing. I’m just hoping Tayse doesn’t see me, or he’ll want to drag me over the fence and make me practice swordplay. He thinks I don’t work out nearly as often as I should.”

She smiled, but a trace of worry lingered, as if she knew he was lying. “If that happens, I’ll have to throw off my disguise and play the haughty princess. ‘I have commanded this man to wait on
me
, Rider, and you will not drag him from my side.’”

“Oh, yes, that tone of voice would make even Tayse back down.”

When she had had her fill of watching warfare, they promenaded through a few of the gardens. Despite the sunshine, the cold had chased everyone else inside; they had every path and enclosure to themselves. All the flowers were dead, of course, but some of the hedges retained their color, and the naked trees offered a variety of fantastical shapes with their trailing limbs and supplicating, upraised branches. Cammon and Amalie wandered through the sculpture park, where past kings and queens of Gillengaria struck marble poses and gazed down with forbidding, displeased expressions.

“If I ever have my statue done, it’s going to show me smiling,” Amalie said. She paused beside a representation of some former queen, whose face could hardly have been more grim, and stretched her arms wide in a welcome gesture. She had taken off her father’s glasses so her face was completely bare, completely open, covered only with a smile. “I’m going to be bending down a little, like I’m getting ready to kiss a child on the cheek. I’m going to look
happy
. People will want to come visit
my
statue, and maybe leave offerings for birds and squirrels at my feet.”

Cammon couldn’t help smiling at that. He was recovering some of his usual insouciance, though he was still being careful to keep his curious mind in check. “Maybe by the time you’re old, and you’ve been ruling for fifty years, you’ll be feeling a little more grumpy.”

She laughed. “So maybe I should commission my statue now.”

Before the war comes,
he thought.
While there is still a hope that you will take the throne.

“I will,” she said calmly. “The Riders and the mystics will keep me safe.”

He stared at her, completely nonplussed, for it was not a thought he had intended her to overhear. “Majesty—” he said. “I’m sorry.”

She placed her fingertips against the smooth bole of a skinny birch, as if feeling for a pulse in its narrow trunk. “Sorry for what? For worrying that war might snatch the crown from my family? You’re hardly the only one.”

“I shouldn’t—I didn’t mean—I’m sorry that I didn’t keep my thoughts to myself.”

She flattened her palm against the tree and looked at him over her shoulder. The wool scarf had slipped a little, and her red-gold hair made a halo around her shrouded face. “But before. When the Nocklyn lord was talking to me. You sent me thoughts on purpose.”

“I did
that
time. I haven’t tried to do it since! I’m not sure it’s a good thing that you can hear me when I don’t want to be overheard. Let me see if I can shield my thoughts from you now when I’m really trying.”

He shut his mind down, staring at her in concentration.
I wonder what Senneth will make of this conversation,
he thought, willing the words to stay locked inside his own head.
She will not like it any more than Valri would, but I’m certainly not telling the queen.

Amalie tilted her head as if listening, but looked disappointed. “No. Nothing.”

He smiled. “Well, that’s a relief.”

“Not to me,” she said. “I like to hear you thinking. It makes me feel like—like—there is someone else in the world.”

He was troubled, and that was a rare state for Cammon. “Majesty, I’m pretty sure the queen would say you should be looking to other people to keep you company.”

She tilted her head to one side, considering that. “Valri likes you.”

“I think so. But that doesn’t mean she thinks I’m suitable to be your friend.”

Amalie shrugged, dropped her hand, and started kicking her way down the leaf-strewn path. Cammon fell in step beside her. “But
you
want to be my friend,” she said.

He couldn’t help himself. He smiled at that. “Oh, I do. But scruffy mystics with no family connections don’t get to pick princesses as their friends.”

Amalie smiled, too. “But, you see, I
am
the princess. I get to order people to do what I say. And I say, ‘Cammon, I want you to be my companion.’ What can you do about it? Nothing. You have to obey.”

He gave up. He didn’t particularly want to keep his distance anyway. “Well, good. And if Valri and Milo tell me I have to stay away, I won’t listen to them. Only if
you
tell me.”

“So I want you to entertain me at dinner,” she said.

“Entertain you how? At the
formal
dinners? With your father and all the nobles present?”

She nodded. “Those dinners. Particularly when one of my suitors is present. I want you to tell me stories.” She glanced at him. “With your mind. Put the stories in my head.”

He tried not to laugh. “Won’t that make it hard for you to concentrate on the conversation?”

“We’ll work out a signal. I’ll touch my left earring if I’m bored and want you to talk to me, and I’ll touch my right earring if I want you to be quiet.”

It was a terrible idea. Valri would flay him alive if he agreed, and Senneth would not be even slightly amused. Kirra would think it a delightful plan, but Kirra was hardly a role model for anybody. “Majesty—”

She took a lofty tone. “I command you. You have to do what I say.”

He felt, for a moment, like a swimmer resisting a strong current—and then he put his head under and succumbed. “Well, then, I will. I don’t know how entertaining any of my stories are, though.”

“You can make disparaging comments about my suitors,” she said. “Make fun of their hair or their clothes.”

“I’m really the wrong one to talk about how other people look.”

“And you can let me know when they’re lying. Right there at the dinner table.”

“And then you’ll challenge them, I suppose. ‘Not true, ser. You only own half that many horses.’”

She grinned. “You think it would make conversation awkward? I won’t say anything. But I’d like to know.”

“All right, then. I’ll tell you whenever I pick up anything interesting from their thoughts.” He glanced at her. “Valri won’t like it.”

She gave him an angelic smile. “Valri won’t know.”

He glanced over his shoulder, as if expecting the queen to appear any minute, anxious and scolding. “She’s probably looking for you right now. Are you cold? Do you want to go in?”

She shook her head. “I want to see the raelynx.”

He was pleased. “You do? I love to visit him. I’ve never seen you there.”

She turned and led him in the direction of the big cat’s private enclosure. “I used to go with Valri almost every day. These past few weeks I’ve scarcely had a moment to myself, so I haven’t been. I wonder if he’ll have forgotten me.”

Someone was coming up the pathway. Cammon touched her arm, put his finger to his lips, and drew her aside. Like children, they hid behind a springy yew until the solitary gardener had passed by, then they grinned at each other and scampered on down the path.

“What does Valri plan to do with him?” he asked. “Does she really think she can keep him here forever?”

Amalie was silent a moment. “I hope so. I’ve grown attached to him. I would hate to see him returned to the Lirrens, even though that’s where he belongs.”

“He’s not a pet, you know. He can’t be gentled like a horse.”

“I know. Valri told me.”

He glanced at her. “But you’d like to try.”

She shrugged and didn’t answer.

It took them almost fifteen minutes to cross the compound to the garden where the raelynx was imprisoned. From thirty yards away, Cammon could sense its restless, hungry presence. Violence and motion wrapped in a package of exquisite beauty. It was like fire or wind or something elemental. Not just inhuman—bordering on divine.

It was aware of their approach, too, and by the time they made it to the gate it had padded over to press its square nose against the bars. As when he had been here with Valri, Cammon sensed an unexpected emotion at the forefront of the cat’s mind. He strove to identify it while he watched Amalie step up to the gate and circle her fingers around the bars.

Remembrance. Recognition.

“Be careful,” he said. “He can bite your hand off.”

“He won’t,” she said, and stroked her index finger down the red fur of his nose.

Hard to believe that there was anyone in the world that
Cammon
would find himself urging to caution. “Majesty. Be
careful
.”

For an answer, she slipped one hand between the rods and scratched under the red chin, extended for just that purpose. With her other hand, she reached through and slowly pulled the tufted ears through her fingers.

Cammon was afraid to move, afraid to startle the creature into sudden brutal movement. “Amalie. Stop.
Amalie
.”

The raelynx began to purr.

It was a dark rumbling sound, so deep and throaty it might almost be a growl of warning. Except its eyes were closed and its flicking tail was stilled and the emotion emanating from its wild heart was even stronger, and even stranger.

Affection.

The raelynx knew the princess and, in the most primitive fashion, loved her.

“Just how much time did you and Valri spend down here in the past year?” he asked in a low voice.

She gave him a quick flashing smile and pulled her hands back, which filled him with overwhelming relief. “All told, days and days,” she said. “I thought he would remember me.”

And before Cammon truly realized what she was about, she pulled a key from her pocket, opened the locked gate, and stepped inside the garden.

C
AMMON
was ossified with horror.

Standing there like one of those grim statues of her forebears, he watched Amalie crouch to the ground before the raelynx and rub her fingers over the brushy fur of its face. Its purr intensified; the ground itself seemed to shake with the sound. The raelynx turned its head to catch Amalie’s wrist between its teeth, and Cammon’s heart exploded, but the cat was playing. It nipped her skin, then ran its rough tongue down the length of her forearm.
That
hurt; Cammon felt Amalie’s sudden pain spike through her bubbling delight. But she didn’t cry out or jerk away. Instead she bent down and pressed her nose against the cat’s and ruffled the fur on either side of its face.

Cammon couldn’t even speak, but his mind was frantic.
Amalie. Amalie. He could kill you with a swipe of his paw.

He had not expected an answer, but it came, wordless but clear, a projection of calm and well-being. She was not afraid. The big animal trusted her, and she trusted it in return. There was nothing to fear.

He stood there, terrified, unmoving, trying to think, trying to determine what to do. Should he call for Senneth? Would she be able to force the raelynx away from the princess, step by snarling step? Should he call for the Riders, send Tayse and Justin racing through the compound with swords uplifted? A raelynx could not be killed by human hands—that was almost axiomatic—but two Riders wielding flashing blades could probably make the creature back away, hissing and shrieking with fury, allowing Amalie time to escape.

Should he push himself through the gate, try to draw attention from Amalie, or would that only excite the beast to sudden violence? He had controlled the raelynx with some success during their trip through Gillengaria last winter. Could he, if the beast suddenly attacked Amalie, regain that control, drive it away from her? Not in time, surely not in time. It would just take a second, a moment of malice, a spurt of rage, and the raelynx could spill Amalie’s blood almost without effort.

He must take control now, he must ease the animal away. Slowly, with infinite mental stealth, he crept up on the creature’s mind, like a hunter tracking the most devious prey. He would throw the noose of his will around the raelynx’s consciousness, tighten it like a choke collar—be prepared for the inevitable furious fight—and hold on. Hold on. He was close, he was almost there, he could slip past those dark and deadly eyes—

But Amalie was there before him. Inside the creature’s head. Strolling beside it down a springtime path, an insubstantial leash looped carelessly around one hand.

Not even Senneth had been able to hold the cat so completely in thrall.

“Amalie,” he said out loud, his voice strangled, “what have you done?”

She didn’t answer, but then, he imagined she was expending all her energy merely to keep the cat quiescent. How had she learned this trick? Through Valri, obviously, but how had she learned it so well? If Valri had the same degree of power over the raelynx, she certainly hadn’t demonstrated it the other day. Amalie had an ability that superseded even Senneth’s, even the queen’s.

The cat had chosen to give her mastery. There was no other explanation. It loved her, and it had submitted.

Cammon hadn’t thought such a thing was possible.

Slowly he dropped to his knees on the other side of the gate. Amalie was sitting on the ground now, clearly settled in for a while. The cat butted its red head against her shoulder, demanding more attention. Amalie smiled and began running her hands down its rough fur, picking out burrs and stray bits of bark. “How long has he been like this?” Cammon asked, quietly now, no longer afraid. “How did this happen?”

She glanced at him, half smiling, sensing his change in mood. “I don’t know how it happened. One day he didn’t care much for me—he would pace and growl and let out this furious scream whenever I came by—”

“I’ve heard that scream,” he said.

“And then one day he liked me. But it was weeks before he allowed me to touch him. And months before I felt safe to come inside. But the first time I did, it was like this. He lay on the ground before me and started this
thunderous
purring. And we have trusted each other ever since.” She gave Cammon a serious look. “I’m not sure he
can
go back to the Lirrens now. He’s been spoiled—he might not be able to survive. If he doesn’t fear me, perhaps he won’t fear hunters and other men who wish to harm him. He could be trapped or killed.”

“He doesn’t seem to have lost any of his basic hatred for other people,” Cammon said dryly. “It’s only you he trusts.”

“It seems like he’s not afraid of
you.
”

“Maybe not, but he’d eat me if he could.”

She laughed softly. “Oh, I couldn’t let him do that.”

“Does Valri know that you can do this?” he asked.

She shook her head. “She would be almost as afraid as you are. I can’t tell you how many times she’s warned me—just like you did!—that a raelynx can’t be tamed.”

“She’s probably right. If he wasn’t inside that gate—”

“I want to open it and let him out. Just to see.”

“
Majesty.
No, no, no, don’t even think of it.”

She gave him a quick frowning look. “You called me Amalie a moment before.”

“I was trying to keep you from getting killed,” he said. “When you’re not in mortal danger, I think I can remember to use your title.”

“I like it when you call me by name.”

“Well, Valri doesn’t.”

“Well, Valri doesn’t have to know.”

“Then, Amalie, can I just say it would be a very bad idea to let the raelynx out? If you
can’t
control it, and you
can’t
get it back inside the gate, it could spend the next thirty years slowly killing off all the inhabitants of the palace. Not even the Riders would be able to hunt it. It would survive here till it died a natural death. No one would come to visit for fear of being eaten. Your father would have to abandon the palace and take up residence somewhere else. The Riders would have nowhere to train, and they’d grow fat and sloppy, and pretty soon no one would be afraid of them. And then Halchon Gisseltess would come sweeping in from the south, and take over the whole city, and you’d be forced to marry one of his ugly cousins, and see what you’d have done? Just because you wanted to set the raelynx free?”

His tone had gotten lighter as his threat had gotten sillier, and she was laughing by the time he was done. “I suppose you’re right,” she said meekly. “He must stay locked up. But I wish he could come keep me company in the palace. I’d like to have him sleeping at my feet at night. I’d be safe then, don’t you think? No one would dare try to break in and murder me if the raelynx was watching over me.”

He had to agree. But. “That’s one of the reasons I’m there,” he said. “To make sure trouble doesn’t come creeping up on you by night.”

She gave the raelynx a final pat on the head, came to her feet, and slipped outside the gate. Cammon had to admit to a profound feeling of relief when she keyed the lock, and the raelynx was still in the enclosure. “Yes,” she said, giving him a sunny smile, “I do feel safe knowing you’re nearby. Maybe I should keep
you
in a walled garden so you can’t ever leave.”

The image this conjured up was so vivid that for a moment he couldn’t think of how to answer. He glanced down at her, his mouth open as if he would speak, but no words came out. The truth was, he thought, feeling humble, feeling stupid, he didn’t think he would mind any more than the raelynx did being kept in perpetual service to the princess. “Men generally don’t make very good pets,” he said at last, and she went off in a peal of laughter.

“Didn’t you say that about the raelynx?” she said.

He managed a grin. “And it’s still true, whatever you may think.”

They didn’t speak for most of the walk back to the palace, being engaged in dodging the attention of servants and soldiers and random couriers off to deliver messages. They made it inside unseen and crept carefully down the passageways toward Amalie’s favorite parlor. Valri was inside and sick with worry. It was the first time Cammon had ever been able to pick up her presence without a visual cue, and that underscored for him how alarmed she was to know Amalie had spent the day with him unattended.

“I don’t think I should go in,” he said in a low voice. “Valri’s here, and I don’t think she’s happy with me.”

Amalie nodded but put a hand on his arm to stop him from turning away. “I was only joking, you know,” she said.

“About what?”

“I would never try to keep you here against your will. You or anybody. I wouldn’t want to.”

That brought his grin back, and he attempted to copy the sweeping bow that Justin and Tayse were so good at, right fist to his left shoulder in a gesture of utter fealty. “Majesty,” he whispered, “I live to serve.”

H
E
didn’t want to tell the story to anybody but Senneth, so he waited until very late before heading down to the Riders’ cottages after dinner. She was standing outside, seeming not at all uncomfortable with the late hour, the bitter cold, or the unconventional summons.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“It’s freezing. Can we go inside?”

“Tayse is awake. If you don’t mind if he hears—”

He shook his head, shoved his hands in his pockets, and started walking. She fell in step beside him, and almost instantly he started to feel warmer. He felt his shoulders unclench a little as the chill was chased away by her burning magic.

“So tell me what’s happened that has you running out in the middle of the night to confide in me,” she said. She sounded quite cheerful; clearly she had not had the kind of day
he
had. “I might know the secret already, though, for Justin came back from his audience with the king to tell us that Valri has confessed to being Lirren-born.”

“That’s not what I came to tell you, but it
was
a pretty interesting moment,” Cammon said. “What did Justin say? Was he shocked?”

“Apparently not. Relieved, actually. Ellynor had told him while they were in the Lirrens, but then made him promise not to tell anyone. Justin said he’d never had to keep a secret from Tayse before and wasn’t sure how long he could do it.”

“Were
you
surprised?”

She waggled her head from side to side to show uncertainty. “Yes and no. Well, there’s always been something strange about Valri! And I’ll confess that once or twice I wondered if she was from the Lirrens, but it just seemed so improbable that I put the thought aside. Still, it explains so much about her, down to the fact that you’ve never been able to read her. I confess, to some extent, I was relieved, too. This is the kind of secret I don’t mind so much. I have no quarrel with the Lirrenfolk.” Still walking, she glanced over at him. “But if that’s not what you wanted to tell me, what is it?”

“Well, Valri’s part of the story. Remember how, when we were traveling last year, Valri never let Amalie out her sight?”

“Hard to forget that.”

“It’s still that way. Every time I’m in the room with Amalie, Valri’s there. She told me once that she’s protecting Amalie. But, of course, we thought
we
were the ones protecting her.”

“So Valri’s protecting Amalie from something other than physical threats.”

He nodded. “I think Valri’s afraid someone will see into Amalie’s mind,” he said. “Uncover a secret.”

“What kind of secret?”

“I don’t know.” He could guess, though, and it terrified him.

“And only someone like
you
would be able to uncover such a thing.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe once we learn what the secret is, we’ll realize why Valri thought it would be obvious to everyone if she didn’t conceal it.”

“Well, unless you’ve made some grand discovery today—” Senneth said.

“She can control the raelynx.”

“Who? Valri? I’m not altogether surprised. I imagine Ellynor can, too.”

“Not Valri,” he said. “Amalie can handle the raelynx.”

That stopped Senneth in her tracks. “She told you that?”

“I saw her do it. We went to see him today.”

“Are you sure you weren’t controlling it? Not even meaning to?”

“Positive.”

She stared at him in the dark. Her pale blond hair drifted around her face like a cap of snow. “How is that possible?”

“I don’t know. She doesn’t have Lirren blood, does she? Her mother was from Merrenstow, right?”

“I’m sure Romar Brendyn could recite you their ancestry for the past sixteen generations. I can’t imagine there was a Lirren bastard anywhere in the line.”

“Then I can’t explain it.” The only other explanation he had come up with was too unsettling to say aloud.

“Are you sure Valri wasn’t the one handling the raelynx?” Senneth asked.

“She wasn’t with us.”

Senneth’s chin came up. “You were alone with the princess? How did that happen?”

“Like you said. Valri met Ellynor and suddenly they were talking about family and friends. It was obvious they had a lot to discuss. So, Amalie and I left the room and then—we just—ended up spending the rest of the day together.”

“I think perhaps I should be filled with foreboding. What else happened?”

“Well, the bit with the raelynx made me forget it for a while, but before that there was something else that seemed strange. I was thinking something, and she heard me.”

“We can all do that,” Senneth said.

“I wasn’t trying to send her a message. She just picked it up out of my head.”

From what he could see in the dark, Senneth’s face looked exceptionally grave. “What are you saying?”

“She could hear my thoughts—”

“What’s the conclusion you’ve reached based on these two separate events?” Senneth interrupted. Her mind was a swirl of confusion and dread—and a certain sense of bitter fatalism.
I have feared this for so long.
…“Are you saying you think she’s a reader? A
mystic
?”