The Thirteenth House (Twelve Houses) (31 page)

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Authors: Sharon Shinn

BOOK: The Thirteenth House (Twelve Houses)
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Kirra had to choke down a wild desire to laugh. It was all she could do to keep from exclaiming, “Yes, he’ll sleep right beside you on the bed. You’ll be delighted at how warm he’ll keep you.” She was fairly certain that Donnal, and probably Senneth, could read what was in her mind.
 
“Perhaps not,” Senneth said.
 
Donnal jumped to his feet, gave Kirra one pained look, and melted into a small, round, feathered shape. Hunting owl. Kirra crossed the room to open the closed shutter, and Donnal sailed soundlessly past her, circled once, and returned to land on the stone sill of the window. Kirra closed the shutter again.
 
“He’ll guard you all night,” she said. “I think you can feel fairly confident that no one else will slip into your room.”
 
Valri dropped her hands. Her green eyes stood out in stark contrast to her deathly pale skin. “Thank you. You seem to have taken very effective measures. Thank you.”
 
Kirra held her arm out to shepherd Valri toward the door. “Come, majesty,” she said. “Time for us all to get some sleep.”
 
Although, Kirra reflected later that night as she lay in bed, she herself wasn’t entirely happy at the turn of events. No more Donnal to warm her back. No more Donnal to watch
her
every move, make certain
Kirra
was always safe. She was not so certain she liked his loyalty being diverted elsewhere; she was a little surprised that he had so readily agreed to Tayse’s suggestion. Then again, she had been just about to make the same suggestion herself, and he certainly would have obeyed her instructions.
 
She huddled under her blankets and thought the early summer air was a little too cool and wondered how everyone else fell asleep so easily when they were solitary in their beds.
 
CHAPTER
16
 
T
HE next two days were much like the first one, but worse because there were the daylight hours to get through as well. Amalie was in high demand for breakfasts, afternoon teas, strolls through the gardens, and excursions into the shopping district of the city that bordered the court. She seemed happy to be invited anywhere and to attend any function. Senneth, managing to look both expressionless and grim, naturally accompanied her on any outing, with at least one Rider always trailing. Sometimes Donnal accompanied them in a variety of guises. Sometimes he stayed behind.
 
On the afternoon of the second day, Kirra found Donnal napping on the floor at Justin’s feet, outside the door to Amalie’s room. Cammon was sprawled across the hall, telling a story that, to judge by Justin’s face, wasn’t entirely interesting.
 
“The princess is sleeping,” Justin informed her.
 
“Do you feel competent to keep her safe for a few hours if I take Donnal somewhere with me?”
 
Justin just grinned and didn’t answer. “I’ll stay and help keep watch,” Cammon offered.
 
“Excellent,” she said. She toed Donnal awake. He yawned and came to his feet, then stretched his back and legs. “Oh, you’re getting used to this life of leisure,” she said. “You won’t be any good to me at all anymore.”
 
Naturally, he made no answer to that, but his expression fairly closely imitated Justin’s grin.
 
“Let’s go for a walk,” she said. He followed her down the many halls and stairwells till they were out and rambling through the surrounding grounds. It took some effort to find an area so remote it wasn’t patrolled by guards or frequented by visitors, but finally they located a shadowy, tree-lined path that no one else had discovered that day.
 
“Finally,” Kirra muttered. “Hold up a moment.”
 
She stopped and shut her eyes, concentrating for a minute on the details of her body. Arms just so, skin just this weight—but these shall stretch to wings and this shall ruffle to feathers. When she opened her eyes, the world had changed colors and proportions, and her own body was light as a puff of air.
 
Donnal had changed right alongside her, and now they were both summer songbirds, fashioned of such bright colors and sweet melodies that they seemed constructed of joy. Donnal twisted his head and asked a question in a strange twittering tongue, and she replied, and simultaneously they flung themselves into the rippled blue-and-white sky. Sunlight and motion and the sheer delight of existence buoyed them on their flight. Kirra could not even sense the effort of moving her wings, of gauging the air currents, estimating distances. She merely was, and was happy.
 
They chased each other through the afternoon, pausing two or three times at one of Eloise Kianlever’s ornamental fountains to splash in the water. Kirra spotted a marmalade cat crouched beside one of the fountains, poised to spring, and she let loose an undignified screech and tore into flight again. That would be a scandal, a tragedy, a ridiculous way to end her disorganized life, as dinner for a house cat at one of the Twelve Houses. She had always wondered what would happen to her if she was killed or severely injured while in another shape. Would she revert to her true form or die as she was, incapable of calling up magic? She wondered if the same worry had factored into her father’s decision to name Casserah as his heir.
Serramarra Kirra has disappeared. There is no trace of her body anywhere to be found. . . .
 
But such dark thoughts couldn’t long be entertained in such a small and giddy brain. Donnal dropped to a rosebush and she settled beside him, happy to look for aphids or ladybugs or anything that might resemble an afternoon snack. Song trilled out of her, a few notes that might have meant something, though she didn’t know what. Donnal replied in the same language, and she almost understood him. He could have been naming her his soulmate, his lifelong companion. He could have been calling her attention to some tasty grubs wrestling in the dirt. It was all the same. It was all about the present moment, this brief and sun-kissed second of life. She hopped from the bush to the grass below and scratched at the dirt with a dainty claw.
 
They played all afternoon and it was Donnal who reminded her that there was another life to go back to. One minute he was beside her on a tree limb, chattering inconsequently, the next minute he had dropped to the ground and bulked into a dark, silken, ferocious shape. She was actually startled for a moment and chirped her alarm. Then she realized that he wasn’t a bird, he was a dog. He was
Donnal
who was a dog, and she wasn’t a bird, either. She was human.
 
So she opened her wings and drifted down, and the foot that she placed lightly on the ground was human and shod in embroidered leather. She stretched and shivered and extended her arms to remind her of their proper length, then she shook her head to remember the weight of her hair against her back. The dog sat and watched her, its head cocked to one side, a single ear back in a quizzical expression.
 
“What?” she asked. “Is my hair all mussed? Do I have feathers on my back?”
 
He barked once, and when she still didn’t understand, reared up on his hind legs and put his front feet on her hips. Another bark, then he whined, and nudged at her hand with his cold nose. She giggled and caught his paws so he didn’t scratch her.
 
“Donnal! What is it? You have to be more explicit.”
 
He squirmed in her hold and licked at her forearm. She laughed and dropped him back to the ground. “Casserah would never put up with that—” she started. And then she froze. Reached up a hand to tug on a lock of her own hair.
 
Gold. Curly. She had reverted to Kirra.
 
Trembling just a little, she focused, finished the transformation to her sister’s shape. She could not remember a time she had ever forgotten the form she was supposed to return to. Then again, she rarely went so long disguised as another creature, and perhaps her body had simply longed for its own familiar contours. But she knew that wasn’t it. She had spent the afternoon playing with Donnal, both of them in a primitive, elemental form. That was what she was used to considering as the constant reality of her life; that was what she envisioned when she had to picture her own soul. She had been Kirra while she had been a bird beside Donnal on a rosebush. She had only changed shapes as she returned to human form. She had not changed who she was.
 
 
 
AMALIE’S door was guarded by one of the Riders she didn’t know, so Kirra took a chance and went to Senneth’s room. Yes—there they all were—Cammon and Tayse and Justin lounging on the bed and playing a card game; Senneth sitting in the window seat staring out at Eloise’s front lawn. Donnal had followed her into the room and plopped down with a sigh on the floor beside the bed. Kirra went to sit beside Senneth.
 
“What’s this?” Kirra said. “You’ve dared to leave Amalie alone?”
 
“Valri’s with her and they’re discussing something highly secret. Also, I think the princess wanted a chance to bathe without me looming over her. I think she’s a little shy around me.”
 
“She doesn’t realize that you’re used to bathing in rivers and streambeds—if you get a chance to bathe at all.”
 
Senneth smiled somewhat reluctantly. “No, I have been much more civilized on this particular jaunt. I’ve actually combed my hair every day.”
 
“So why do you look so gloomy?” Kirra was just as happy to learn that someone else was having a bad day. It would distract her from her own.
 
“Thinking. Not sure what to do.” Kirra waited and Senneth eventually continued. “I don’t really believe Amalie’s in danger here. Even if we weren’t taking such fanatical precautions, I think she’d be perfectly safe. But I—I would like to make clear how far we would go to protect her. I can’t figure out how to do that.”
 
Justin spoke over his shoulder; the room was small enough that everyone could hear their conversation. “Set someone on fire,” he said. “That usually does it.”
 
“Ooh, can it be Justin?” Kirra squealed.
 
“I would,” Senneth said, “but something would have to provoke me.”
 
“Justin always provokes
me.
”
 
Senneth gave her a repressive look from her gray eyes. “You would be more helpful if you took this seriously.”
 
“Seriously, I’d like you to set Justin on fire.”
 
Tayse lifted his eyes from the cards in his hand. “Has anyone behaved inappropriately to the princess?”
 
Senneth considered. “Most of them have been very respectful. The one I dislike the most, for no real reason, is Toland Storian. He sits too close. He’s always touching her—putting his hand on her arm to get her attention or playing with the ribbons on her dress. I asked her, and she said she’s not afraid of him, but he’s the one I’d most expect to cross the line.”
 
Cammon discarded. “All the housemaids hate him,” he said.
 
There was a short silence while everyone looked at him. He glanced up, surprised. “What? They do. Apparently he’s got a history of forcing himself on them when they’re in the kitchens or the hallways.”
 
“There’s your villain,” Kirra said.
 
“Yes, but I can hardly punish him for overpowering an abigail on the back stairwell.”
 
“Really?” Justin said. “It’s just the sort of thing that I’d expect to bring out your vengeful side.”
 
Senneth bit her lip and tried not to laugh. “I meant, and make a point about Amalie.”
 
Kirra pursed her lips and tapped them with her finger. “I wonder . . .” she said. “Maybe I could push him a little.”
 
Now Senneth grinned outright. “I’ve always thought of Casserah as the type who could defend herself. Mystic or no.”
 
“I might take some other shape. Let me think a minute.”
 
Her hand was still before her face; Senneth reached out and caught her gently by the wrist. “What happened here? Did you burn yourself?”
 
Kirra let her examine the raised red welt, then pulled her hand away. “Oh, that was Mayva. Her moonstone brushed against my skin.”
 
Now Senneth was concerned. “That’s not going to be the only time someone’s going to touch you with a moonstone. Half the people here are dripping with them—which I noticed to my dismay our very first evening.”
 
“I know,” Kirra said. “I’m a little worried about it. And tomorrow at the ball—dancing—if a man’s wearing a moonstone ring and has his hand at my waist—well, it’s a very odd serramarra who yelps every time someone puts his arms around her.”
 
“And you’ll look even odder if you’re all covered with welts,” Senneth added.
 
“That I can take care of,” Kirra said. She made a fist, and the red marks smoothed away. “No one will even notice—unless I make a fuss when I acquire them.” She let the magic fade and the marks reappeared.

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