The Twelve Kingdoms: The Mark of the Tala (10 page)

If the former, the gambit seemed not terribly successful, because Glorianna’s priests had a reputation for cattiness and cruelty that seemed at odds with the goddess’s peaceful message. But then, I’d always enjoyed more the midwinter ceremony that was Moranu’s, though Uorsin had declared these low holy days.

Maybe that was one reason I liked them, the quiet observances of the change of seasons. The way the full moon shone through Moranu’s silvered window high in the ceiling, when we doused all the torches and toasted the turn of the year. Those were fun, informal parties, not like the elaborate rituals in spring and fall to observe Glorianna and her gracious descent and ascent.

A woven mat of pink roses covered the white marble. Rose-scented candles burned in every nook, loading the air with such heavy perfume that my nose stung with it. An enormous rose-paned circular window loomed behind the priests. The image sang through my brain of the bird crashing through the identical glass at Ordnung, how easily it had shattered. The slender priests seemed like pale flowers when I remembered the storm of fury in Rayfe’s midnight-dark eyes.

The priests are a conduit for Glorianna’s divine power,
I reminded myself. The stories of the Tala drawing from the darker magics were just that, stories meant to frighten children. Surely the odd things I’d seen, those weirdly prescient dreams, all had some reasonable explanation.

Amelia made the circle of Glorianna in the air, and we knelt, her fingers interlaced with mine. We bowed our heads as the prayers washed over us. I’d never been so grungy for such a ceremony before, but the traditional bathing and perfuming seemed superfluous at this point—not to mention that we really had no time for it. Amelia’s amethyst silk confection was more in keeping with it all. When we’d been girls, every spring we received special new dresses very much like that one for Glorianna’s feast of planting.

My knees grew tired and my mind drifted on the waves of numbing prayer. I studied the patterns in the rose window so I wouldn’t fall asleep. In the center, as with all of Glorianna’s windows, rested an enormous blossom in full flower, so painstakingly re-created, the petals appeared to be velvet soft instead of cold glass. Shapes of petals and leaves radiated away from it, whirling in an unseen wind. Behind those lurked darker shapes, unseen shadows. Or was that a shadow from outside the chapel, moving just beyond the glass?

Then one of the priests stood before me, his soft brown hands holding a cut-crystal bowl filled with rose petals swimming in clear fluid. I closed my eyes and tipped back my head. He dabbed my face with the rose water, the scent cloying. I’d received Glorianna’s benediction many times since my childhood. This particular concoction seemed amazingly pungent. For extra cleansing? The candles consumed all the air from the chapel until every breath I took burned. The restlessness shifted inside me, and I longed for the fresh, night air. Only a minute’s difference and I might have overcome the fear and walked into the woods, instead of coming here to kneel, suffocating under this false perfume.

The other two priests flanked me, each taking a hand. Amelia moved off to the side, engaged in silent prayer before Glorianna’s window. The priests held my hands up high and wide, while the third moved behind me, gently tugging my head back so I gazed at the ceiling, my back arched, his perfumed fingers on my temples. They chanted prayers I didn’t know, naming demons, names I’d never heard, beseeching them to leave me. I forced myself to stay still under the ceremony, but it became near impossible.

That restlessness grew bigger, swallowing my heart and my patience. I wanted to snarl, to scream. But I held it all in for Amelia. For Ursula, too. I would be deserving of their love and trust, if only for these few hours. Someone pressed the cool rim of a goblet to my lips and I sipped gratefully, my throat parched. I gulped too much, though, and choked, the sweet rose water going down my breathing passage instead. Convulsing, I coughed up the fluid, wrenching my hands from the priests and bending over, desperate to breathe again.

The heaves shook me, my muscles clenching in waves of pain, tears squeezing out of my eyes.

When I could breathe again, I became aware of the silence. I looked up from my crouched position, blinking away tears, to see the four of them—the priests and Amelia, like an orchid amid roses—staring at me with identical expressions of horror.

“Glorianna refuses Her protection,” one of the priests, the one with the soft brown hands, whispered. “I’ve never seen it so.”

The other two priests circled their hearts in the prayer to Glorianna. Amelia knotted her white hands together, worry ravaging her beautiful face.

“I choked, is all,” I told them. “With my head stretched back like that, I couldn’t help it.”

Amelia began to weep, silent tears silvering her cheeks. I climbed to my feet. Some of the hysteria rumbled in my heart because I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

“It was an accident! I’ll drink the potion.” I seized the goblet, but the priest holding it wrapped his hands tightly around it and curled his lip at me.

“No,” he snarled. “Glorianna refused you. You may not have it.”

“Give it to me.” I stared him down, tempted to kick his knee, so he’d drop like the weasel he seemed to be.

“No.” His lips trembled and firmed, his rabbit gaze darting back and forth to the other priests, who stood back. Poised to run.

I leaned into him. “Do you dare ignore the command of a Princess of the Realm?”

He gulped. “Glorianna is above mortal kings and queens.” It came out as a whine.

“Ah, but kings and queens are above mortal priests. Will Glorianna save you from the High King’s wrath? Or mine?”

“Andi . . .”

I held up my hand to Amelia, to stop her plea. “No, Amelia. You thought of this ceremony and potion for me, out of the goodness of your heart. I will have it. Give it to me, Priest. Look—Glorianna’s avatar commands it.”

Granted, Amelia rarely seemed very commanding, but the threat worked. With a high-pitched subvocalized wail behind pressed lips, the priest yielded the goblet and scurried back to the others, their eyes huge in their soft, hairless faces. I raised the goblet to my lips, steeling my congealing stomach against the curdling sweet smell, and caught Amelia’s gaze over the rim.

She looked as if she didn’t recognize me.

It stabbed at me, the uncertainty in her shadowed eyes. The rose perfume stung my nose and the bones of my skull throbbed with it. Drink or no? It would be better if I did. She would be reassured. It would make everything right again.

I pressed my lips to the warm metal rim and tilted my head back, determined to drink it down.

Glass shrieked in a tumbling shatter of sound, followed by the high wails of the priests.

Time slowed to clockwork precision, so I impossibly saw it all, the enormous rose-glass window giving way, imploding inward like a pink, beating heart. Blackness at its center resolved into the snarling face of a giant black wolf, blue eyes like flames burning through the pink-riddled air of the close chapel.

The glass shredded around him, falling away as he leapt through the window, over the altar, and landed at my feet, fangs bared. The goblet fell from my nerveless fingers, spilling crimson fluid in an arc across the pale rugs.

I froze. As did the wolf.

A door slammed in the distance. Not daring to take my eyes off the wolf, I whispered, “Amelia?”

Silence. The priests had dragged her out and the soldiers would have swept her away to safety. Good. Not incidentally abandoning me, the one no one knew was here. Not so good.

The wolf glanced about, took a step to sniff at the spill of crimson potion, and growled. My heart hammered against my ribs, my still-uneasy stomach burning. I took a step back and his head snapped to follow my movement. I slid my borrowed dagger from the hilt at my hip. It felt off, the balance unfamiliar.

I took another step back and he followed, intent and predatory. I had nowhere to run to. Blood pounded in panicked thumps in my heart, flashing the image of that great wolf in the courtyard in Ordnung, jaws locked on the woman’s throat. And she’d been a trained soldier. I had no hope of escaping a similar fate.

He advanced on me and a little whimper escaped me.

I didn’t want to die.

With a cock of his head, the wolf settled his black fur and strode past me. I caught the scent of pine and musk. The wolf paced down the rose runner to the arched wooden doors, shut against the night and its dangers. He looked at me expectantly.

I didn’t blame him for not wanting to linger in this place. And there was only one way out, for both of us, unless I wanted to climb through the window’s shattered remnants.

My throat crawled acrid and a headache throbbed behind my eyes—from fear or the rose potion. I took a step or two toward the doors and the wolf, keeping the point of the blade between us. He sat back on his haunches, waiting, patient. I circled around him, keeping what distance I could. The wolf cocked his head in that same way, and I could have sworn he laughed at me.

I had to turn an awkward sideways to work the unfamiliar latch with one hand and have the dagger at the ready with the other. I risked a glance at the latch and something bumped my leg. I gasped, stumbling back. The wolf followed, pressing his head against my thigh like a cat. He looked up at me, at the knife, with interested intelligence. I pressed back against the doors and he pressed his muzzle against my leg, nuzzling me just as Fiona might, looking for apple slices or a scratch for that itchy spot between her ears.

Hesitant, ready to snatch my hand back, with a sense of unreality as in those dreams, I reached down and stroked the gray-black fur of his broad head. The wolf pushed forward so my fingers slid between his tufted ears. Obligingly I scratched. The fur felt both rough and soft, the skull under it as hard as rock. He shifted and the ropy muscles rippled under his black coat.

His eyes closed in utter wolfish bliss. Then, with a shake, he moved away and looked inquiringly at the doors again.

Feeling like I was in one of those dreams again, I unfastened the latch and pushed the doors open, half expecting a mob of soldiers rushing to my rescue.

Not yet.

The path stretched away, shadowed and empty through the eerily silent woods. In the distance the lights and sounds of people demarcated another world. Here the moon shone down, silvering the pink light spilling out of the chapel.

The wolf took several steps toward the deeper, darker forest, then looked at me. Clearly expecting me to follow.

“No,” I whispered.

The wolf took another step. Looked at me.

“I can’t.” But, Moranu take me, I wanted to.

He blinked at me, a silver flash of eyeshine. With a bound he was off, black coat dissolving from sight. I lingered, trying to make out his shape or movement, my fingers still tingling from the feel of his fur, my mind turning over what I knew to be real.

“Rayfe?” I whispered, asking the question of the night and no one.

“Right here,” he answered from behind me.

I
didn’t scream—though my already pounding heart nearly burst.

I spun around to find him standing there, that half smile twisting his lips. His hair spilled loose and his dark clothes blended with the shadows as surely as the wolf’s hide had.

My frantic thoughts battered against one another. I wanted to ask if he was a dream or real. If he was the wolf or the raptor. Or both.

Shape-shifters and wizards.

“Those things don’t matter, Andromeda. Not truly. You know that,” Rayfe said, as if he’d read my mind.

He reached out and I stumbled back a few hasty steps. “Don’t touch me. I’ll scream and they’ll capture you.”

He held up empty palms in reassurance. “No, they won’t. I’m not so easily taken. I’m here for you. We can be beyond their reach in a moment.”

“I’m not so easily taken either.”

He laughed, a dry sound, and rubbed his shoulder where I’d stabbed him. No knife protruded from his muscled arm. Of course it wouldn’t. Those were dreams only. “Believe me—I know that.”

“Are you . . . real?”

“Touch me and find out.”

I shook my head. “I’ve had . . . dreams. You felt real in those, too.”

“Dreams are just a different reality, Andromeda mine. Touch me. I’m just a man. One who wants to make you his queen. I would never hurt you.” But a lean hunger infused his face, half-lit in the pink light.

“You hurt me in the meadow.”

“A nip—and I’m sorry for it.” He held my gaze, steady. “But I had to know. You had to know. Desperation drives many ill deeds. And I apologized for that before.”

“That was a dream,” I insisted, stubbornly, I know. But still.

“In point of fact, you hurt me.”

“I won’t apologize for that.”

“No.” He looked grimly amused. “I never imagined that you would. Touch me.”

“Why?”

“So you’ll know I’m only a man. That you can trust me.”

“You are the last person I can trust.”

“That’s not true. Besides we have to start somewhere.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “One touch.”

Why I wanted to, I didn’t know, but my fingers itched to do it, as if his presence pulled at me. I took a hesitant step forward, achingly aware of how alone we were. He watched me, intent and somber, much as the wolf had. I stepped close and he held very still. I reached up and touched his cheekbone, rough with evening stubble, his skin hot and smooth beneath.

His eyes gleamed, and, very slowly, he turned his head and pressed a kiss to my finger.

I jumped back as if burned, and pain flared between my eyes. That awful potion. I rubbed at the spot and Rayfe frowned.

“Do you have a headache?”

“It’s nothing. A tiresome evening.”

“You have to let me help you.” Fiery determination rippled through him, and he nearly reached for me, then fisted his hands by his sides. “Come with me. Come to me now and put an end to this chase. You should have come to Annfwn long ago—I can only hope it’s not too late.”

My heart fluttered at the edge of panic. Or maybe I’d drunk a bit of his desperation.

“I have to do nothing!” I nearly shouted the words. “I won’t betray my people. I won’t hand myself over like a parcel of goods to be exported.”

His jaw flexed in frustration. “Well, nothing is exactly what you are doing, Andromeda—and it’s costing both of our peoples. I know you’re afraid, but I do not have the luxury of your inaction. You belong to Annfwn.”

“I am my own person.”

“Are you, Princess? Are you sure about that?”

“No, actually, I’m not, because you appear in my dreams. When you attacked Ordnung . . . very strange things happened in my head. I feel like I can’t trust my own thoughts.”

He nodded, acknowledging the point, though he seemed angry and frustrated.

Shouts rang from the manse, and I glanced back, startled. “Soldiers. You must go.”

I didn’t question my impulse to have him run. To evade capture. I could imagine all too well what Uorsin would do to him. Execution would be kind.

He held out a hand. “Come with me. Let me help you. It will only get worse.”

“Never.”

“Always,” he replied. That same vow.

And then the guards were upon us. No, charging past me and attacking Rayfe, who swung a great broad-bladed sword, blurring with speed, impossibly dodging them all. His face twisted in a fierce grimace as two men fell from one ferocious swing of his weapon. Other Tala poured out of the night woods, long black hair flying and blue eyes blazing. Swords met with shrieks, and hoarse shouts of pain shattered the peaceful night.

I’d thought I was rooted to the ground, in my horror, unable to decide which direction to go, but a guard picked me up easily enough, carrying me over his shoulder like the parcel of goods I’d sworn I wouldn’t be.

Amelia had roused the entire manse. To rescue a servant girl. What little cover I’d had was well and truly destroyed.

I suppose I couldn’t expect her, with her soft heart, to do otherwise. It’s not like she could pull an Ursula and launch a stealthy one-woman rescue mission. Still, in the aftermath of the abrupt and unexpected battle, even Hugh shook his head.

“So much for secretly smuggling her to Avonlidgh,” he sighed, dismissing the soldiers with a salute and sending his man to disburse the bystanders.

Amelia tipped her head at him, gorgeous curls sliding in the torchlight, fire over gold. “Would you prefer that I let her die there? Or be kidnapped?” Amelia’s sweet voice chimed as softly as always, but the edge in it caught his attention.

“No, darling.” Hugh slid an arm around her delicate waist and pulled her close. “Of course you couldn’t. Just—next time come to me first.”

“There wasn’t time.” She pulled away, took a step toward me, and faltered. “I thought you would be dead already, before I could get back to you. I thought you’d be torn limb from limb. That horrible wolf . . . and then the Tala attacked! Hugh, you said they wouldn’t find us here.”

“I was wrong.” He looked grim, his gaze going to the wagon bringing back the wounded and dead from the forest. Through the trees, a pyre burned, committing the few fallen Tala to ashes. We’d lost three soldiers for every one of theirs. Unpromising odds for our future.

“How did you escape the wolf, anyway?” Amelia demanded, then gasped, her hand going to her slim throat. “Is it still in the chapel? We must warn the priests!”

I tried to think fast, not easy with my skull tightening on my brain. “I managed to open the door and the wolf ran out.”

“Ran out?”

“Yes.” I didn’t like the look in her eyes. Belatedly I remembered that my white shirt must be spattered with Glorianna’s sweet wine, which I’d coughed up like a soldier regretting last night’s overindulgence. I wanted to cross my arms over it “You know what they say—they’re more afraid of us than we are of them.”

Amelia laughed, high and hysterical.

Hugh cleared his throat. “It’s late and we have much journeying to do tomorrow. Now that there’s no need for secrecy, I’d like to increase our pace. And we won’t stop at any more manses.”

“You’ll take us directly to Windroven?” Amelia’s smile shone radiant with relief. The way she spoke of the place—something told me she wouldn’t feel safe until we were there.

“Yes, my love. You’ll feel much better when you’re both inside Windroven’s deep walls. The Tala will never reach us there.”

He closed the space between him and Amelia, once again encircling her with his arm. She melted now, leaning against him and closing her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I wasn’t meant for this. I don’t understand anything.”

“It’s late,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Go up to bed and rest. All will be better in the morning.”

“But Andi . . .” She spoke this directly to him, not looking at me.

“She’ll be safe now. You know I pledged this to you.”

She nodded. “I know.”

Hugh and I watched her go, then faced each other in that little ante-courtyard. He scrutinized me, even strong and noble Hugh showing uncertainty. I wished I could tell him the extraordinary story. Now it seemed just like another of those crazed dreams, when Rayfe showed me my dagger in his arm. Him, dead in the snow, sightless eyes staring as the snow turned scarlet. A castle rising out of a rocky hillside strewn with bodies, blood running down to a turbulent sea. I wanted to cover my eyes, the torches far too bright.

“Are you unharmed, then? Not covering for Amelia’s sake?”

His question yanked me out of the strange fugue of images. No, I couldn’t tell him. That I’d spoken to Rayfe and touched him.

“Yes. The wolf truly ran away.”

“After crashing through the chapel window.”

“Yes.” Um. “Perhaps it was ill? Crazed with fever.”

“And as you ran back, the Tala attacked you.”

“Yes.” I really didn’t like lying, and now I seemed to be speaking one every time I opened my mouth.

“The captain of the guard said you were just standing there.”

“I was afraid.” It came out as a whisper, though that, at least, was true.

“That happens, even to experienced fighters.” Hugh nodded at me, slow, considering. “I’ve vowed to protect you, Princess Andi. Not only for my beloved wife, but because I consider you a sister. You are family to me. All chance at secrecy is lost. I think you know our situation is more dire.”

My lip stung where my teeth dug in, and I wrapped my arms tighter around myself.

“I think they knew all along where I was. They’ve been following.”

Hugh scanned the night, pressing up against the edges of the lights, beyond the fancy stone balustrades. Then he nodded again, confirming something to himself.

“That was no ordinary wolf, then. Still—they die like any animal. I would say we should stay here, hunker down, and fight them off until they give up, but this pretty manse wouldn’t last a day. I think only Windroven can withstand that sort of siege.”

“A siege?” The word crashed through me, shattering my hopes for an outcome without many deaths and massive suffering.

Hugh glanced at me, his face uncharacteristically hard. “You expected anything else? The Tala have demanded you and no one else. Their attention—their attacks—follow you and only you. We cannot match them on the ground. Our only option is to lock you up where they cannot take you. Windroven is far enough from the Wild Lands that they will be cut off. We’ll outlast them.”

“There is another option.” If I had just gone with Rayfe, the siege wouldn’t have to happen.
I do not have the luxury of your inaction.

I must have sounded bad, because Hugh sheathed his sword and took my hand in his before I could stop him. He went down on one knee. He had proposed to Amelia like this, with joy, while she smiled down at him. With me in this deserted courtyard, his mouth flattened with determination.

“I vow I will not fail you, sister of my bride. I will lay down my life before the Tala take you.”

He dropped his forehead to my hand, then faltered, frowning at the dregs of Glorianna’s potion between my knuckles.

I pulled my hand away. “Take that back.”

He blinked at me.

“Take it back,” I insisted. “I don’t want your life. Protect me, yes. It’s your duty. And mine. I have no death wish, no desire to be fodder for the Tala’s demons. I won’t betray my King and my kingdom. But . . .” I drew in a deep breath, tried to even out my rising voice. “I won’t have anyone else die for me.”

He shook his head, then climbed to his feet. “You can’t command something like this, Andi.”

“Neither can you,” I snapped back.

“Fair enough.” He grinned at me suddenly, taking me by surprise. “You’re not who I thought you were, Princess Andromeda.”

“Is anyone?”

“Most, yes. The coming days ought to be interesting.” He sounded as if he was looking forward to it. Then he sauntered off, whistling, to join my sister in their marriage bed.

Leaving me to my own devices. And regrets.

True to Hugh’s promise, a small group of us rode hard for Windroven.

Though the rest of the ladies would follow at a more leisurely pace, Hugh allowed Dafne to stick with us. In the predawn light, he’d assessed her and given approval. I suspected he knew asking Amelia to forgo all assistance would be asking too much. Dafne slid her glance to catch my eye and winked. She clearly thought so, too.