Sterling (17 page)

“I had not pegged you as a romantic, Erich,” Costas said. “In fact, I believe you missed my Marriage Brokering because you were dallying with a mistress or two, much to your family’s annoyance.”

“Love strikes at unexpected moments,” Erich murmured.

“You’re serious.” Costas glanced between Erich and me. “You know she’s disfigured, don’t you?” He pointed at my face. “She’s wearing something to cover it up, but she did not at my Marriage Brokering. She has a red mark that covers half her face.”

Erich persisted. “I want to marry her.”

“No,” Costas replied. “And that’s my final answer. Under no circumstance will I allow it. You are the heir of Talata, and she is Lady Ricknagel. I will not see two Houses so recently joined in rebellion united in marriage. If you wish to marry, Lord Erich, I can negotiate more suitable offers. My cousin Calandre needs a husband.”

“I will marry Sterling or no one,” Erich clipped. “We can wait until you have more confidence in our loyalty.”

“Don’t bother,” Costas said. “I will never give permission for such a marriage. Sterling Ricknagel will never marry anyone.”

I stifled a cry. Costas’s revenge went deep. Not only would he ruin House Ricknagel financially, he meant to finish us. Costas would exercise his right as King to prevent me from marrying anyone. There would be no Ricknagel heir. Aunt Siomar was too old to bear. Costas meant to deny me children, a husband, and happiness. He meant to rip out my family by the roots.

“Now, Lady Ricknagel,” Costas went on, his voice oddly kind, “You will be escorted to a room where you can refresh yourself and prepare for our journey. Erich, your mother wishes you to return to Talat City. One of her former mages came for the convention to discuss our magical disaster, and he brought letters from her. I’ll have someone bring them.”

Erich released my hand, which was numbed from his tight grip. His mouth had flattened into a grim line, but he said nothing to me.

A Dragonnaire stepped onto the dais and offered me his arm to escort me into the Palace at Costas’s command.

I cast one confused glance towards Erich, but he and Costas had already turned away, discussing some matter of rebuilding in Talat City in the wake of magic’s fall.

S
hortly after the
Dragonnaire left me in a parlor in the west wing of the Palace, Leila Galatien arrived. Her child played with her braids while he rode upon her hip. She looked nothing like any Queen of Lethemia I had ever seen or imagined. In contrast to earlier, she glowed, perhaps with the joy of reuniting with her beloved, or perhaps with the simple, needful pleasure of holding her son again.

I rose from a gold brocade chair. “Your Majesty.” My curtsey felt strained.

She pushed the salon door closed. The baby said, “Mada me! Mada me!” and beat at her head with his tiny fists.

“Costas asked me to see that you have everything you need,” she said softly. “He mentioned you might not have clothing. I can find extra clothes for your journey.”

Bitterness clogged my throat. Despite whatever trials Leila Galatien had suffered in her mysterious absence—and I did not doubt she
had
suffered, given her white, strained face upon her arrival—she now looked the picture of a mother’s happiness.

A joy I might never know.

My hand inadvertently crept across my belly. Two times I’d lain with Erich. I prayed he’d planted his seed in me, though I hadn’t the faintest notion how I would know if he had. Lethemian history offered precedent for a noble and legitimized bastard ruling a House.

“Costas has a way of shocking people,” Leila said, watching me carefully. “It’s pure manipulation. He shocks you so much, you’re like a trapped animal, too panic-stricken to resist his will. Are you all right? You look upset.” She patted my shoulder softly, as if to soothe a child. “Lady Ricknagel, I am sorry. But I think you must accept his terms, even if you do not like them. What other choice is there? He may—he may soften with time. He’s been through many difficulties in recent days, and he is not in a forgiving mood.”

I could not tell if her words were meant to sympathize or to taunt. I plopped into the chair again. I could think only of Papa and what Leila might know about his demise. She had been there that night.

“My father,” I squeezed out. “Did you kill him?”

Leila froze. The baby dropped the braids he had been playing with and batted at his mother’s chest.

She took a moment to kiss and soothe him, but even that could not cut the tension in the room. “I did not,” she finally said. “One of Costas’s men, Allian Kercheve, fought your father, who interrupted us while we were freeing Costas from a mageglass enchantment. We meant only to capture your father, to bring him to trial—but then your father killed Allian.” She rubbed her forehead with her free hand, frowning. “And—and then my brother had to kill Xander Ricknagel.”

“Laith Amar killed my father?” I cried. “How?” The famous mage was known for his magic, but Papa had bled to death. I remembered the horrible red line across his throat. Why would a mage of Laith’s skill resort to crude violence?

“No, no. My Gantean brother, Miki.” She grabbed my arm—the first ungraceful motion I’d seen her make. “Lady Ricknagel, please. I never wished this to happen. My brother is only a young boy; he thought he was protecting Tiriq and me. Please. I know you might not be able to forgive us, but at least do not—do not seek revenge. Accept Costas’s terms. Miki’s still a child, a troubled one at that. You cannot understand what the Ganteans have been through—” She broke off as tears streamed down my face. “I’m sorry. I’ll see what clothing I can find for you.” She inched for the door with little Tiriq clutching her shoulders. She moved sleekly, quietly, like a creature in water.

“I’ve been through a lot, too,” I said as she departed.

I took a deep breath.
Always look forward, Starry,
Papa’s voice said in my head.
You can shape the future but you cannot change the past
. At least I was going home to Shankar and Costas hadn’t locked me in the Palace dungeons or stripped me of my title and lands.

Even so, Papa’s rebellion had been costly. He had mobilized the entire Ricknagel armed forces at once—no cheap endeavor.

Our navy was a staggering loss. During the war Aunt Siomar and my Gantean handmaiden, Serafina, had used their magic to attack all the harbors along Lethemia’s southern shore. The reports that had flowed back to Shankar said the Galatien-allied fleets had been utterly destroyed at Murana, Anastaia, and Peresco—even Amar’s fleet, well known for its prowess with magic and sail, had fallen to ours. Of course Costas wanted our ships; his own were destroyed.

I walked to the mantel and checked my face in the mirror above it. I carefully smoothed the streaks in my cosmetic.

You know she’s disfigured.
Costas’s cruel words rang in my head. Erich already knew that, and despite everything, he’d wanted to marry me. It made no sense. He gained no advantage in such a marriage. Perhaps in ten years I might steer House Ricknagel into a small recovery, but Erich would be better served following Costas’s advice and marrying Calandre Powdin or some other rich heiress of the Ten Houses. Why had he pushed for our marriage? I needed to find him. If nothing else, I wanted to say goodbye.

A soft knock interrupted my thoughts.

Leila stood there, her arms full of clothing and baby. She hadn’t found a servant to bring me the dresses. She pushed Tiriq at me as she bustled through the door. “Be careful, he’s like a baby goat. He goes for anything that hangs and he loves to eat hair,” she warned me. “I think these belonged to your sister.” She spread the gowns on the bed.

Tiriq Galatien’s warm body and sweet baby scent comforted me and focused my racing thoughts. I wondered if Leila had used her son’s winsome power deliberately. I hugged him close, and he happily chewed on my dress.

The clothes certainly looked like Stesi’s: an expensive silk morning gown, a waist cincher ribboned with blue laces, a riding habit in Mirkian wool.

“Do you know when we will be leaving?” I asked, bouncing Tiriq on my hip. I wanted to hate Leila, but she was so soft and unprepossessing, I could not gather much vitriol. In other circumstances I might have even liked her. She met my eyes when she spoke to me and did not avoid looking at my face. Her direct manner reminded me of Serafina.

“I’m not going east. I will stay here with my son.” She picked up the riding habit.

One question burned in my mind, and I couldn’t help asking, “How did you get him out of that mageglass cage? Did you have a mage with you? Was it your—Laith Amar?” Mageglass spellwork was notoriously difficult to break; I’d seen that whole cage in shatters. The only mage I knew who could have done it was Laith, whose talents were known throughout the country.

Leila Galatien dropped the riding habit onto the bed. “No. Laith wasn’t there. I broke that spell.”

“You? You’re a magitrix?”

“No. I am Gantean.”

“Oh!” That was why she reminded me so much of Serafina! They were both Gantean. “Did you ever know a woman named Serafina in Gante?” I blurted.

Leila’s brows drew together. “Serafina is not a Gantean name.”

“Of course. Her Gantean name was Mee-sel-eek,” I said carefully.

“Miseliq? It was a common name. The
Ikniq
clan favored it.”

“You didn’t know someone named Miseliq yourself?” I wanted to find Serafina. She had been a rock of surety in my narrow world. She would know how to manage Erich Talata and Costas Galatien and everything else, too. “She was tall and thin,” I murmured, closing my eyes, “She didn’t look Gantean, not like that boy, your brother, Miki—” My eyes flew open as I faltered into fraught territory. “She had bright auburn hair that glimmered in the light. Her eyes were green, and they glowed like a magestone, lit up from the inside. She had strong magic, very strong.” A thought occurred to me. “Oh, we must find her! Perhaps she could help with the broken magic.” Tiriq found a stray curl of my hair and yanked it.

Leila turned the full force of her regard upon me. I saw why Costas might think her fit to be a queen. Though she had a delicate exterior, she was as powerful as the tides, within. “She said her name was
Miseliq
? Your handmaiden?”

“Yes, Miseliq. But I called her Serafina. She thought her Gantean name too foreign, and she wanted to blend. She came to us from the east. My father had to go to Vorisipor, in the Eastern Empire, to uphold the terms of a treaty he’d made with them.” Again, Leila’s eyebrows drew together, but this time I knew what she thought. She believed, like everyone else, that my father was a traitor. “It wasn’t like that,” I said. “Papa made the treaty to protect Lethemia. He did it to keep us safe.”

“I believe you,” she said. “But Costas never will. The woman, Miseliq, how long was she with you?”

“Over a year. During the war my father sent her on a mission. I miss her terribly. She was almost like a mother to me. She was my friend.” More tears pricked my eyes.

“Where did your father send her?”

“To sea, to fight with her Gantean magic. She had some power over the water—I don’t know what happened to her; I want to find her.”

“I know what happened to her,” Leila said sharply. “Your handmaiden, your Serafina, she was the Cedna of Gante. And she is dead.” She said the words so coolly, as if it didn’t matter to her.

My tears overflowed. “Oh. Oh, no.” I felt stupid, crying again in front of this calm, contained woman, but I’d loved Serafina. She had been my friend. She’d never made me feel worthless for my ugliness.

Leila turned away.

I pulled myself together. “I am sorry to hear she has died.”

“I am sorry she has died, too. She broke the world’s magic by killing herself.”

Dear gods! She’d killed herself? Broke magic? “I don’t understand.”

“None of you Lethemians do,” Leila said. “It is a Gantean matter. I’ll leave you to get dressed.”

* * *

W
earing a too-long gown
, my face scrubbed clean of cosmetic, I wandered into the Palace. I’d stayed here for the Marriage Brokering over a year ago, but Serafina and I had been housed on the other side, near the Emerald Pillar. This western wing was where the Opal Pillar rose, icy and cool, to hem in the Palace walls. I’d heard rumors that every pillar housed a beautiful garden. Much as I would have liked to see the Opal garden, I wanted to find Erich more. I hoped he hadn’t already departed for Talat City.

I finally found a footman at the end of the wing. “Do you know where Lord Erich Talata is staying?”

He bowed. “The east wing, my lady. Ground floor, last door, next to the Emerald Pillar.”

“Thank you.” I walked to the central stair, past the grand ballroom where the Brokering festivities had been held, and straight to the east wing’s corridor.

My hand shook as I knocked. What if Erich didn’t wish to see me?

“Sterling!” Erich threw the door wide. “I decided to stay the night and rest before going to Talat City.”

I hesitated at the threshold. “I only wanted to thank you for all your assistance,” I said formally. “You’ve been—”

“Does anyone know you’re here?”

“I don’t think so. Well, a footman. I had to ask where you were housed.”

Erich peered down the hall. “Let’s go someplace where no one can find us. Come.”

He grabbed my wrist—no sparks—and hauled me towards the end of the hall.

“There’s nothing down here, Erich. Your room is the last one.”

“Wait and see.”

We approached a bare stone wall. Erich lifted his free hand and probed it. “If I remember correctly,” he pressed his palm flat onto a stone, “this should—”

A stone panel groaned as it retracted, sliding open to reveal—

“The Emerald Pillar Garden,” Erich said. “The very one from which your Ophira was hewn.”

“Oh! Oh!” I stared. Green, sparkling walls rose skywards.

He pulled me over the threshold and palmed a stone on the other side. The panel slid closed behind us.

“How did you know how to get in?” I turned in a slow circle to admire the garden’s lush splendor. Crevices had been carved into the crystal itself, which formed both the floor and the walls. Dwarfed trees grew from the ground crevices, and fantastical vines from the walls.

“I spent several summers here in my youth. My mother wanted to improve our relationship with the Galatiens. Costas showed me how to get in.”

In the middle of the garden, in a huge crevice, a full-sized tree grew. Its golden leaves shivered in a breeze.

“It’s open to the sky,” I said, gazing upwards. “The entire pillar is hollow.”

“Quite an architectural feat,” Erich said. “And none of it done by magic. The gardens were made by hand, every chisel-stroke.”

“It’s so, so lovely.”

“Sterling.” Erich caught my hand again, pulling me to face him. “I hate that Costas won’t let us marry.”

“You’ll find someone else to marry, Erich. Someone beautiful and rich. I saw Calandre Powdin at the Brokering. She’s—”

“I only want you, Sterling.”

“How—why—I’m not—”

Erich cupped my cheeks—marred one, too—between his palms. “You’re beautiful, Sterling. I know you can’t see it, but you are, inside, and in every way that matters. Promise me you won’t marry someone else. Promise me.”

“Costas doesn’t want me to marry anyone. He doesn’t want me to make heirs.” His compliments had nearly melted me into a puddle. “So I doubt that will be a problem.”