The Betrayal (34 page)

Placing the dart head back on the rock, he straightened, reached into his tunic, and produced the sealed messages Lady Rheneri had given him. The ribbons fluttered in the breeze, blue and violet, pale green and silver.

Turisan's heart gave a sharp thump. He took the parchments—such fragile things, but they meant so much—and noted that the colors of the ribbons went well together. Stonereach and Greenglen. His heart quickened as he thought of them twining in larger, longer ribbons. Too sweet, that dream. He would be grateful for far less. With a wry half smile at Luruthin, he broke the first seal.

Eliani sat beside her father in the council chamber, trying to attend to the discussion. The topic had shifted from the probability of war at Midrange to the logistics of a general muster, and apart from giving the numbers of guardians Alpinon could contribute, Eliani had little to say. Her temples were beginning to ache, and she was tempted to lay her head on the council table, but imagining Lord Jharan's reaction quickly cured her.

Heléri was seated beside her, which she found a comfort. Lord Rephanin was also present, and Eliani had noticed him watching her intently more than once. She avoided meeting his gaze.

Eliani?

It was soft, it was gentle. Feather-light, Turisan's touch calmed her after her initial surprise.

She closed her eyes in acceptance. She had held herself so tightly to herself for so long that it took her a moment to relax, as if opening her cloak to a sudden ray of sun in the midst of winter.

I am here.

A wave of joy washed over her; his feeling, not hers, but she let it envelop her. It decreased a moment later as if pulled back, though not diminished.

Are you ready to write?

Eliani opened her eyes. Ehranan was speaking, detailing the forces that would be needed to defend Midrange Pass. She drew a page toward her and dipped her pen.

Yes.

Lord Felisan writes thus
—

Eliani wrote “Felisan” at the top of the page and took down the words her father had sent with Luruthin:

That is very like my father.
Eliani smiled as she completed writing the final line, and felt color rising to her cheek.

And on a separate page, Lord Jharan writes,

Eliani set the first message aside, noticing as she did so that Heléri was gazing at her. She gave her elder-mother a small smile, then took a fresh page and wrote “Jharan” at its top. The Southfæld governor's message was longer:

And that is most unlike my father, or rather, it is like him in that it contains a number of tricks.

Eliani frowned, reviewing what she had written.
Tricks?

It is not in his usual style and includes errors. The verse he quotes is of the Lay of Lore, which our bards preserve by oral tradition, so it has never been written. He has also misquoted the verse. A further test, I must assume.

Eliani drew a breath and set down her pen.
I think we may conclude success.

Turisan made no immediate answer. She sensed a vague regret, a breath of cool breeze, a glimpse of dizzying height.

Thank you, my lady.

She gazed at the two pages before her.
You owe me no thanks. If I had not been so stubborn, you would not have had to ride out today. I
—
I apologize.

A flood of warmth threatened to overcome her.
Never apologize! Never feel regret. I have imposed on you against your wishes; it is I who should apologize. Forgive me!

Eliani gave a soft laugh. Turisan's tenderness enfolded her, touching her to the core. It elated her and frightened her both. She felt dangerously adrift, yet she knew without doubt that she was safe.

Turisan?

She sensed his attention, again caught the brief impression of wind across a black cliff top. She felt as if she, too, stood at the edge of a precipice.

She took two breaths and closed her eyes, swallowing.

My answer is yes.

She sensed his sudden alertness, his wordless query. She swallowed.

I will be handfasted with you.

A stillness drew her attention back to the council chamber even as his elation filled her mind. All the councillors were watching her in varying degrees of doubt, and Lord Rephanin was staring at her with unpleasant intensity.

I must go!

Abruptly Eliani's mind closed to him, but Turisan's heart had no room for disappointment. She had agreed!

His soul thundered with joy. Opening his eyes, he strode to the edge of the rock, gazed southward in the direction of Glenhallow, flung his arms wide, and gave a wordless cry of triumph.

“I take it the test was successful.”

Turning, he saw Luruthin watching him with a wry expression. Half-wild with happiness, Turisan could not begin to form an explanation.

He looked down at the pages in his hand and laughed softly, then folded them and slipped them into his leathers. Striding back along the tower to the head of the trail, he glanced over his shoulder, grinning at Luruthin.

“Let us ride.”

Eliani rose from her chair, unnerved by the intense gazes of the councillors. She picked up the two pages she had written, handed one to her father beside her with a small smile, and carried the other to Lord Jharan. As she returned to her seat, her father met her with a beaming face.

“Word for word.”

Lord Jharan looked up from the page in his hand, then let it drop to the table. “Word for word.”

A murmur rose within the chamber. Eliani stood behind her chair, held by Lord Jharan's intent gaze. She sensed Rephanin's eyes upon her as well, and others.

Lord Jharan bowed. “I felicitate you, Lady Eliani.”

She looked down at the table and noticed a stray drop of ink. How careless of her.

“Do you hold by your offer to ride to Fireshore?”

“Yes.”

He gave a single nod. “We shall make arrangements for your departure tomorrow morning, then. Forty guardians will accompany you—if you think that number sufficient, Lord Felisan?”

Her father raised his eyebrows and glanced her way with a smile. “More than sufficient. I would send only ten. Fireshore is not our enemy, after all.”

“Twenty guardians, then.” Jharan nodded to an attendant, who hastened away. Another attendant stepped forward to speak softly with the governor.

Eliani quietly resumed her seat, then leaned toward Heléri. “I want to talk with you.”

Heléri nodded, her gaze on Lord Jharan. The governor of Southfæld swept a glance around the chamber, then spoke.

“My lords, my ladies, it is well past midday. Let us pause for a time. Refreshment awaits those who wish it in the feast hall.”

The chime was rung, and the councillors arose from their seats. Several came to offer their congratulations to Eliani. More gazed at her sidelong or murmured together out of her hearing.

She stood up, glancing at Heléri, who nodded and moved toward the outer door. Lord Rephanin swept up to them, blocking their way.

“Did you have any difficulty hearing the message?” His voice was sharp, his gaze challenging.

Eliani was annoyed but kept calm. “No. It was as if Lord Turisan stood before me.”

Rephanin seemed not to like her answer. He made no move to step aside. “Five leagues is nothing compared with the distance to Fireshore.”

“Let be for now, Rephanin.”

He shot a glance at Heléri then, to Eliani's surprise, stepped aside. With one long, narrow look at Eliani, he turned and passed into the feast hall.

Eliani gave her eldermother a grateful look. Heléri smiled back.

“Shall we retire to my chamber? Or are you hungry?”

Eliani shook her head. “Not hungry.”

She led the way out to the arcade. Heléri followed, drawing her veil over her face against the daylight.

Lady Heléri's chamber was as dark as draperies could make it, save for the fire burning low on the hearth. Every window had been shrouded, and the door covered with a heavy tapestry. Heléri kindled lanterns on the table and in sconces, then moved to the fireside and sat in a wide, low chair.

Still standing, Eliani gazed at her eldermother. She felt rather stunned.

“I have agreed to be handfasted.”

Heléri raised her eyebrows, then smiled. “I wish you all happiness, my child.”

“Is it a mistake?”

“Dear child. That I cannot tell you.”

Eliani felt her heart filling with conflicting feelings. She let them spill out as she paced the room.

“He is so far above me. He is much more experienced, and knows everything about the high court and about governance. I will be expected to live up to him!”

“You are heir to the governorship of Alpinon. It is not so unequal a match.”

Eliani gave a short laugh. “If I had spent more time learning from my father instead of riding with the Guard—I am not fit for much within palace walls.”

She paused, realizing with the words that handfasting would mean leaving her clan, aligning with Greenglen. She could not ask Turisan to renounce his position and come to Alpinon; Southfæld was much more important. She would have to leave Stonereach. Leave High-stone. She frowned.

“You are fitter than you know. Turisan has chosen wisely. He is devoted to you, as even you must know by now, Eliani. I think you need not fear him.”

“I do not.” She turned to look at Heléri. “I do not fear him. I fear my own failure.”

“You must not have felt so when you agreed. What is different now?”

Eliani struggled to remember the clarity of that moment. “I—it felt right. I knew it was right.”

She came to sit beside Heléri and stared into the fire. There was much she did not know of Turisan, it was true. Much for them to learn of each other. Remembering the calm she had felt as he spoke to her from Skyruach, she understood now that what had made her agree to be handfasted was that steadiness, that clarity and gentleness, that was his touch in thought.

She could no longer deny her desire for him, which seemed to increase with each passing moment. Desire alone, however, was not enough for a successful match, as she well knew.

A sharp knocking on the door to Heléri's chamber startled Eliani. She rose at the sound, glancing at her eldermother as an imperative voice came through the door.

“Heléri, I would speak with you.”

It sounded like Lord Rephanin's voice. Eliani took a step toward the door, but Heléri stayed her with a gesture. She watched her eldermother rise and draw a breath as if to calm herself, then slowly walk to the door and open it.