Sterling (34 page)

Erich frowned; Costas smiled. “Then my answer is the same. You may not marry. Not now, not ever.” He lifted the Vhimsantese vellum, tore it in half, and threw it in the fire, just as I’d feared. “We will have Laith Amar look into this strange matter of the Binds and the
aetherlumo di fieri
, and he will undo yours if it can be done. Erich, a Talatan vessel awaits you in the Shankar harbor. Get down there and return to your family in Talat City. I want you out of my sight. I’m not feeling charitable towards you.”

Repressed fury surged off Erich. He scowled darkly and stalked from the parlor. I didn’t know what to do, so I remained as silent and still as a statue.

“Well,” Costas said as he poured himself more akavit. I still hadn’t touched my first shot. “You have been bold, Lady Ricknagel. I would have thought you, of all people, would know that Erich Talata is the worst sort of man when it comes to women. He tears through mistresses like wet tissue paper. I am sorry you have suffered his roguish ways.”

I gripped my dress in my hands. “He is not as you think him.” Without waiting to be dismissed, I departed after Erich.

I found him in the stables saddling a horse.

He looked up from tightening the girdle. “I’m sorry, Sterling. I put you through that embarrassment for nothing. I’m sorry I married you and caused all this confusion. I thought—I thought he’d honor the Vhimsantese marriage after I told him about the
aetherlumo di fieri
and our intimacy.”

“Thank you for trying. It means everything to me, Erich.”

He threw on a heavy riding cloak and hitched a saddlebag and a lantern to his mount. I wiped a stray tear off my cheek.

“I’ll be back, Sterling. Don’t cry. I’ll come as soon as I’ve relieved my parents’ worry and Costas has left you in peace. He’ll have to return to Galantia eventually.”

“Shankar is so far away,” I said. “You will have your own responsibilities in Talat City.”

“Nothing could keep me from you, Sterling.” He gripped my hands. “Just because he ripped up the paper, it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. I made those vows to you.”

“You didn’t even understand the language.”

“I knew they were paltry and unromantic vows. I would have promised much more had I made my own vows. I’ll be back before the sidereal is out. Don’t cry.” He released my hands and brushed away my tears.

“But you’re the heir of your House! You’ll have to marry someone else; you must, to make more heirs. You won’t be able to come back to me.”

Erich’s face hardened. “I’ll never marry anyone but you, Sterling. Someday he’ll let us. You’ll see. I don’t care how skilled a mage Laith Amar is—he cannot break the
aetherlumo di fieri
. Even the Fall did not. Costas will see there is no choice but for us to marry. We belong only to each other, Sterling. That is the way of it.” He turned back to his saddle and checked the stirrups.

“If he ever does relent, he will make us wait years,” I fretted. “By then I’ll be too old to have children.”

He lifted his gaze. “Do you want to have children with me, Sterling? Would you like to—have a family?”

“I’ve always wanted children. I never thought anyone would want me to bear them. My mother told me men would be afraid my children would be disfigured like me.”

“I always believed I’d never have children because I could not touch anyone.”

“But Erich—” I hesitated to voice something that had crossed my mind more than once since the Fall. “That doesn’t matter anymore.” I squirmed from his grip. “Magic is broken. I can feel nothing—no spark at all—when you touch me. You can touch
everyone
now.” I brushed that wayward lock of hair from his forehead. “You’re free.”

Erich’s face tightened. “Do you not want me?”

I smiled through my tears. “Oh, Erich. It’s more that you should no longer want me. You could have anyone. Someone as beautiful as you.”

Erich recaptured my hands. “You were the only one I could ever touch, Sterling. You were the one meant for me, don’t you see? It doesn’t matter that magic’s broken—someday it may be fixed again. The
aetherlumo di fieri
connects us. I won’t give up, Sterling. I’ll wear Costas down. You’ll see. He’ll get so sick of me he’ll say yes. I’ll write to you as soon as I arrive in Talat City.”

I nodded, but I didn’t believe that Costas would capitulate or that Erich had fully comprehended the implications of the Fall. Why would he want me when he could have anyone?

A
t last the
Galatien troops moved from my house to the Shankar garrison, a full sidereal after Erich’s departure. I watched them riding out the Manor’s gate. Costas himself had departed the day after Erich, and these last men were the Galatien agents who would reside permanently in Shankar to fulfill the King’s promise to manage the border with the Eastern Empire.

As soon as the last soldier departed, I collapsed onto the parlor settee, leaning my head over the back like a lady overwhelmed at a ball. Ever since Papa’s death, I had been scrambling so hard for my own survival that I had never mourned him. There had been no funeral, no ashes, no urn. I did not know what had been done with his body. And after Vorisipor, my memory of him was tainted. His shade lurked in this room, where he’d often paced before the mantel, thinking, strategizing—or plotting his treasons. I hated the devilish fit of what I had learned in Vorisipor: the assassinations, the troops, the land. Erich had said he would explain the deeds to Costas, but thus far, I’d had no letter from Erich.

For sennights I had eagerly awaited the post, running to meet the chaise like a girl with a sweetheart in a distant army. Not even word of Erich’s safe arrival in Talat City had come.

I pulled the Emerald Ophira from my dress pocket and brushed it across my cheek, though I knew there was no comfort in dead magic.

A sudden slash of sparks rippled over my skin, emanating from the stone. I lifted the Ophira into the sunlight for a better look.

I had only seen one other Ophira before—Aunt Siomar’s Moonstone—and I’d seen it only briefly at Costas Galatien’s Marriage Brokering, where Siomar had attempted to use it to hide my mark—to no avail. At the time, her stone had been spitting white and gold sparks.

I needed to write to Aunt Siomar. I hadn’t heard from her since before Papa’s death, before the war. She was my only remaining relative. Where was she?

In the sunlight, my Ophira glittered as Siomar’s Moonstone had that night long ago at the Brokering. Two strands of light—yellow and peacock blue—twisted in its center like mating snakes. I had seen those two strands form inside the stone when Erich had first lain with me. I placed my palm above my heart where the cord between us still pulled.

Why hadn’t Erich written? He’d promised he would.

I pocketed the Ophira, my thoughts a muddle of magic, mistrust, and mystery.

* * *

I
gave
up chasing down the post chaise. My province limped back to everyday life. The refugees from the evacuation trickled back into Shankar and took up their businesses again; the garrison soldiers settled into regular patrols. I received a daily message about the state of the eastern border.

Slowly the entire country accustomed itself to our new, magicless reality. Rumors flew from Galantia: Costas was rebuilding his navy with the latest in steam technology to replace what he had lost in the war; he was recruiting engineers to design replacements for the many aetherlight-powered tools that had made our lives easier. He commissioned a bigger system of gas-ducts throughout Galantia to replace the magelights that had previously illuminated the city.

Even in Shankar, people spoke of our King’s competence, skill, and ingenuity. They boasted about his amazing recovery from the blow of the Fall and his stunning prowess in defeating the Eastern Empire without any magic. Everywhere Costas Galatien was celebrated as a hero. They whispered of the good fortune in my father’s defeat.

The world returned to its bustle around me, but I stood still. Like a ghost, I wandered Ricknagel Manor, writing letters, reviewing reports, seeing to the business of the House, but doing it soullessly, emptily. I had not a single friend.

One afternoon, Metty the maid fetched me from the rose garden; I’d taken to caring for the flowers as Serafina had done.

“My lady, you have a visitor.”

“A visitor?”

The girl nodded. My heart leapt. Could it be Erich?

I raced towards the house, moving so quickly I overtook Metty and threw open the door to the entertaining parlor myself.

A neat male figure sat at the settee, stiff and upright.

“Kyro!” I was dismayed that my visitor was not the man I wanted and stunned to find my father’s personal mage alive and present in my home.

“Lady Sterling.” He rose. Then he flushed. “My apologies. Lady Ricknagel.”

“It’s all right, Kyro. Sit. You look exhausted.” The mage appeared to have aged a decade since I had last seen him at my betrothal ball in Engashta. Lines creased around his mouth and eyes. His dark hair looked limp and long. “I thought—I thought you must be dead. After Papa—”

“I had to flee Engashta and disappear. Your father—my lady, I have come to offer you whatever service I can. I have no magic, of course, but I swore allegiance to your father, and he would have wanted me to assist you in any way I am able.”

“I thank you, Kyro. But—”

“It would be better, I believe, if I went by another name. Kyro Arten is a wanted man.”

“What do you wish me to call you?” I was uncomfortable with accepting the wanted mage’s service.

“My middle name is Roque. Will that suffice?” The man stared at the floor. He looked sad and severe.

“Of course. Roque.”

He exhaled. “It is good to be home, my lady.”

“You must take all the time you need to rest and recover,” I said. “I believe your old quarters remain untouched on the top floor. Shall I send for some tea?”

“I would serve you, my lady. Give me a job.”

I was so surprised and flustered that I couldn’t think of anything—what did one do with a defunct mage who might have helped foment a treason one wanted to forget? I stuffed both hands in my pockets. My left hand curled around the Emerald Ophira—the warm, aetherlight-filled Ophira.

“Oh!” I pulled out the Ophira and offered it to Kyro, palm up.

He stared at the stone. “Is that the Emerald Ophira?”

“Yes. And Kyro—sorry—Roque—have a look at it. I know it sounds mad, and all the mages say aetherlight has completely vanished since the Fall, but look in the center. Doesn’t it seem as though
something
is burning inside it?”

“May I?” Kyro reached for the stone.

“Yes, please. I thought I should make you its Guardian? The stones no longer hold power, but I have not heard that any of the other Ophira Guardians have given up their duties since the Fall.” I reminded myself that I needed to follow up on finding Aunt Siomar. She had not answered my letters.

“I would be honored with such a task.” Kyro cupped the stone, hissing softly. “It’s—it’s alive. It has aetherlight!”

“As I thought! You must learn more. If this Ophira contains aetherlight, perhaps that means there is some hope for magic?”

Kyro put a finger over his lips. “My lady, I advise you to keep this matter a secret. I will look into it, but speak of it to no one.”

I shifted. My back ached. “I know you were loyal to Papa, Kyro—sorry—Roque, but you must understand, House Ricknagel has pledged absolute fealty to House Galatien. I will keep no secrets from our King. House Ricknagel now works
with
the Galatiens for the betterment of Lethemia.”

Kyro’s lips tautened. “I only meant that when it comes to magic, these are delicate times. It is best to investigate quietly until we know more. Of course you will give our final findings to the King, as is just and right.”

I studied his face, but I could read nothing there. “Very well. But you will report to me with anything you learn. No matter how small and minor it may seem.”

“My lady, it shall be my pleasure. I am your lienbound servant.” He bowed.

“Go on,” I waved him away. “You need rest. Go up to your old rooms and settle in.”

“May I take the stone with me?”

I hesitated. I would miss it. But Kyro, as a mage, or an ex-mage, was better suited to its care and study. Papa would have told me to do the right thing and delegate. “Yes. The stone is under your care now.” He would be loyal to me and obey my commands. The punishment for betraying one’s lienbound master—or mistress—was death.