Remnants: Season of Fire (28 page)

The matron bit her lip and then nodded once. “Just a little. We want the emperor to be pleased.”

I took hold of a cloth and wiped some of the powder from my cheeks, nose and chin, allowing some of my olive skin to come through again. Then I licked the tip of the cloth and wiped away the awful shadow beneath my eyes, taking a breath of satisfaction when I saw the result. The older woman
shook her head, as if disappointed, but said nothing. What was it with this place that made her women want to look dead, of all things? Weren’t they hungering for life? The porcelain pallor, the deep shadows ringing the eyes. It was horrifying, really, and the first thing I’d noticed about the women when I spotted them along the streets in Castle Vega.

There was a sharp knock on the door, and instinctively I rose and turned, my feet widening in fighting stance, my fists clenching. But it was only Keallach, dressed in his own ivory finery. He wore a high-necked collared tunic, with buttons down the front and crisp shoulders and long sleeves. His breeches were a rich camel color, a soft leather that disappeared into boots that almost reached his knees. His hair was pulled back, clean and shiny, and I had to admit he looked handsome.

But his eyes were only on me. Never did they waver from my face. He strode over to me, all languid grace and power, and took my hand, bowed, and kissed it softly. He straightened, still holding my hand. “My, my, Andriana, you look stunning.”

I felt the hint of a blush at my cheeks. I’d not often heard the word, especially in the context of how one might look. “Thank you,” I said, feeling my blush climb as I cast about for an appropriate response. “So do you.”

He smiled and leaned to whisper in my ear, “I love it when you blush. It reminds me that in many ways you are innocent. I’ve never met an innocent in all of Pacifica. It’s so . . . refreshing.”

I knew I had not the first idea on how to respond to that, so when he turned and offered his arm, I quickly took it. I was eager to escape these quarters, to gain information about more of the palace. It would be an opportunity to learn
more — knowledge that would likely prove of great value when it came time for me to escape.

Thoughts of escaping this place and rejoining my knight made me long for Ronan but also chafed at my heart. What would he think of me, dressed up like a bridal doll? He’d clearly be torn — drawn, as I was, by the sheer luxury of it all, as well as repulsed.

We entered the long, marble-floored hallway, and I felt the soft fabric of my slippers with pleasure. They were light and gave way as I walked, not rubbing at all. If there was dancing, and Keallach succeeded in getting me out on the floor, at least they would not be a detriment.

“This way,” Keallach said, veering to the right. I was counting doors, trying to keep my bearings as we turned left again, into a hallway so narrow that Keallach had to lead. But he kept hold of my hand behind him, and I felt the sense of protection that surged through him. Was he afraid for me and what was ahead?

“Do you always do that?” he said over his shoulder.

“What?”

“Try and read everyone in a room with you?”

“For the most part, yes. Do you not feel compelled to use your gift?”

“I dabble,” he admitted, opening a door. We entered a large sitting parlor with gold-framed oil paintings from waist-high to the very ceiling. The tops of the walls had a heavy molding, and the walls themselves were covered in a rich fabric that appeared glued to them. On a table at the center, between a long couch and two high-backed chairs, was a vast platter full of fruit, many of which I’d never seen before. Two crystal glasses stood on one end with a green bottle between them.
Keallach moved immediately to it, unwrapping a wire and then using his thumb to edge out a stubborn cork. “We’ll remain here, until it’s time for our entrance,” he said. “You may relax. We have a bit of time.”

I turned to the paintings, moving from one to the next. Many looked like they’d been rescued from buildings before the War, from centuries before, even. “Who are all these people?” I asked, liking how a young boy in a red coat had his hand on the head of big, white dog beside him, and how the painter had made the child’s dark eyes sparkle.

“They tell me they’re all my ancestors,” he said, coming close and handing me a goblet. I accepted it, and he clinked the edge of his lightly against mine. “To us,” he said. I hesitated, and he immediately added, “Long-lost kin.”

I gave him a small smile and took a sip. The liquid had an odd taste that seemed to wrinkle my tongue with its combination of tangy and sweet flavors, the hundreds of bubbles that tickled the roof of my mouth. I remembered well the Pacifican evening wine, as well as the liquor of the Aravanders, and decided to take precautions, lowering my goblet. There was no way that I’d be sidetracked or persuaded into something I didn’t approve of tonight just because I was somehow impaired. There was enough against me already.

“You don’t care for it?” Keallach asked, looking at the goblet in my idle hand. “Should I ring for something else?”

“No, no, it’s fine,” I said, moving on to the next painting. This was a vast canvas, as tall as I was, with a handsome couple in ivory clothing, which looked very much like what Keallach and I wore, and flanked by two identical boys just shy of their first decade. I studied their eyes and then looked to him. “It’s you and Kapriel. With your parents.”

He nodded, but his demeanor turned sober and sad. Once again, I felt the grief in him, the longing. I turned back to the painting and saw a light, black fabric that had been draped across the very top of the frame and hung down about an arm’s length — an obvoius gesture toward mourning. Keallach was moving on, lifting his hand to the next, probably trying to distract me, but I stayed with his family’s portrait. His mother had a soft, warm look — clearly the boys had inherited her coloring, with their dark hair and green-blue eyes. His father looked stern and vaguely unhappy. Had he known, even then, what might become of his children? The division, the horror of one turning on the other?

“Come away from that, Andriana,” he said, and there was an edge of warning to his tone. “I do not wish to speak of them. Not this night.”

“But some night,” I said, following him. “You must speak of it, Keallach. Dig it out of the dirt. Expose it to the light. It’s like a wound, festering inside —”

“I said I did not wish to speak of it!” he shouted, then winced and rubbed his forehead as if it ached.

I held my breath and forced myself not to take a step away. The rage was so sudden, so white-hot, so
surprising
that I reeled inwardly. Was it this that Sethos had capitalized on, nurtured, until it could be utilized for his own purposes?

“Do not press me, Andriana,” he bit out. “I get enough of that from everyone else.”

“Forgive me, Highness,” I whispered flatly.

He clamped his lips shut and stared at me, knowing I didn’t mean it — that I’d press him again at the first opportunity. For too long, this brother had been given sway, rather than toppled at his weak points and rebuilt like every other Ailith I
knew. That had been our trainers’ sole goal — destroying what was weak within us; strengthening all that was good. Keallach had been coddled and cultured by Sethos, intent on turning a Remnant into his own servant. But Keallach wasn’t beyond retrieval. I knew it. There was hope in him, a longing so pure that I only needed to find the means to break him free from the gates of bondage so that he could fully embrace his calling. Kapriel would forgive him the horrors. I knew enough of him to know that. And if Kapriel could forgive him, who were the rest of us to hold past sins as the stubborn strands in the sticky web imprisoning him? I needed to free Keallach so that he could take his rightful place beside us. And if I could do that, I knew no one could stand against us. The collective power —

“This is my great-uncle,” he said, pointing up to a portrait of a gray-haired man of perhaps seven decades. “He was a Community elder,” he said, “and he loved me and Kapriel. We spent many afternoons playing at his house. He had a way of teaching us that didn’t feel like teaching. Do you know what I mean?”

I thought of my father. That was as close as I could come. “I think I do.”

He nodded, and I felt the contentment in him covering the rage from a moment ago like water on smoldering embers. “It is good to be understood, Andriana. Known.” He took my hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing my knuckles softly. As gently as I could, I pulled away, but he didn’t seem to mind.

We ambled over and ate from the mountain of food on the table. It could’ve fed twenty but it appeared to be just for us. I ate until the ribs in my corset protested, stuffing myself with cheese and soft rolls and most of all the fruits and vegetables. Keallach took great delight in naming those I’d never seen before. After
a while I merely raised one or another and he’d respond, “Kiwi,” or “Jicama,” or “Artichoke.” On and on it went.

“Is there nothing that doesn’t grow in Pacifica?” I asked, sitting back, hands unladylike on my belly.

“Very little. Or that we cannot import.”

“Why don’t you trade out these things to the Union?” I asked.

“We find that the Trading Union doesn’t have the taste for them. Your people seem to want oranges, maybe the occasional apple, but not much more. And then there’s the difficulty of transporting and preserving them. Fresh produce doesn’t last very long. Particularly in crossing the heat of the Expanse.”

“Hmm,” I said. “Seems to me that a people who have the technology you do could find some way. If you wanted to.”

“Perhaps,” he said lightly. “If we were one land, a united people, there’d be no reason not to try.” He sat back and sipped from his goblet.

“What is this called,” I said, lifting mine, still half full.

“Champagne,” he said. “And you’ve not had much of yours.”

“It’s . . . strange.” I stared at the drink dubiously, watching as streams of tiny bubbles lifted from the bottom as if bent on escaping. I’d only read about it once. “But I’m well aware of the aftereffects of your evening wine. If champagne produces similar results, I want none of it.”

“It doesn’t. It simply serves to loosen any tensions you feel.” He reached forward and poured more in his goblet. “I find it helpful for softening the blow of events such as this evening.”

“The ball?” I frowned. “You don’t care for your own parties?”

“Frankly, the only thing I’m eagerly anticipating tonight is having you in my arms.”

I ignored his flirtation. “So you’d rather be at Wadi Qelt.”

“Indeed. But alas, the life of an emperor does not allow such hermit tendencies for long.”

A knock sounded at the door and a servant appeared. “Highness, they’re ready to announce you.”

“Right,” he said. “Thank you.” He rose, straightened his tunic, and reached out a hand to help me rise.

I tensed, wondering what those on the other side of the wall would feel. I sensed their curiosity and their excitement, as well as a bit of dismay. Perhaps not all were eager to invite a Union girl into the inner empire. I tightened my grip on Keallach’s arm subconsciously, and he smiled down at me as though pleased. I opened my mouth to speak to him, but then the hallway opened up into a vast ballroom, the most stunning room I’d ever been in. All the women were in gowns of white and cream and ivory, but I noted with chagrin that most were plainer than my own. The men were in versions of what Keallach wore.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” shouted the servant beside us to the silent crowd. “I present Emperor Keallach and his guest, Andriana of the Valley.”

Keallach pulled away and lifted his hand to me, and I slipped my fingers onto his palm. Then we paraded forward, and the crowd parted and bowed or curtsied, leaving two chairs on the far end of the room, and three on either side, a step lower, to view. I gaped at the scene in horror. We were approaching a raised dais, and it was clear that we were to sit in them, side by side.

And as I walked past one group of young women and then another, it wasn’t their whispering behind me that told me of their spite, it was their hearts. They undoubtedly saw me as competition, an interloper grabbing the most eligible
bachelor in, well, anywhere. Even in most cities and villages of the Union, I knew that mothers would be pushing their daughters into Keallach’s view. He represented riches beyond measure, power, protection, all wrapped up in a handsome package. Which made him dangerous on every level.

We finally reached the end of the long journey across the vast ballroom and I sank gratefully to the edge of the chair beside Keallach.

“You perch there as if ready to flee,” he said under his breath, leaning slightly toward me. “They’re not as bad as all that.”

“Aren’t they? There are women in this room who would like to eat me alive, I believe.”

“Truly?” he said, cocking a brow. “How fascinating. I didn’t think any of them had the gumption to have such feelings.”

I thought about that as the Six were announced and strode down toward us, each with a woman on his arm who was later dispersed into a group near the dais. None of the Six were apparently allowed to keep their consort with them, which made me feel all the more awkward. But it was their combined distrust as their eyes slipped over me that made me more uncomfortable. The Six did not entirely agree with Keallach’s decision to bring me into this inner circle; that much was clear. Even if they might support our union in theory, they looked upon me as an enemy at worst, a conquest at best. And I supposed I was. At least the enemy part. I would never ever succumb to Keallach’s charms.

I suddenly found it difficult to breathe. I shouldn’t have eaten so much. The bodice was too tight and the room too warm.

The musicians came to the end of their song and I studied them too. Never had I seen so many instruments in one place. At home there was the occasional fiddle or a guitar,
but nothing as grand and varied as what the Pacificans had. I counted eighteen different instruments.

“Do you like the music?” Keallach asked, rising and bowing slightly to me, then offering his hand again.