The Will of the Empress (29 page)

Ishabal inspected her nails. When she looked up, she met Tris’s eyes and said in a business-like tone, “Five hundred gold argibs the first year. Your own rooms here in the palace, your own horses and maid. Your health is tended by imperial healers without charge. Materials for your magic and research are supplied free of cost, within reason. I determine what is reasonable, not a Privy Purse clerk who doesn’t understand mage work.”

Mila bless me, thought Tris, rattled despite her resolve. The offer was ferociously generous.

Her practical self gripped her greedy self by the ear. It always comes back to war magic, and I want to go to Lightsbridge! she told herself firmly.

No need to rush or offend anyone, not if I’m stuck here for at least another month, Tris told herself. “I must think it over, please,” she said. “You must understand how overwhelming this is, for someone like me.”

“Of course,” Ishabal replied, getting to her feet. “You are wise to think about it. But Her Imperial Majesty also wishes you to know she sees your worth. She values it.”

Tris got up and nodded. “I am greatly honored. Please thank her for me.”

She saw Ishabal to the door and let her out, then closed it behind her. I am not going to think about the money, or the funds, or the healers, she told herself, biting her lip. I want to go to Lightsbridge. She turned the key in the lock. And I won’t do battle magic.
Ever.

She was settling into her chair when someone rapped hard on the door. She had locked out the maid.

They all gathered in Sandry’s rooms before the welcoming party so that Sandry could inspect them. Briar wore his favorite deep green tunic and breeches with a perfect white shirt, Tris a vivid blue undergown and sheer black overgown in the Namornese style. Daja was glorious in a bronze silk tunic that hung to her knees and leggings of the same color, the tunic heavy with intricate gold embroideries. Sandry had chosen an undergown of pale blue and a white lace overgown, with blue topazes winking at her ears and around her neck. She smiled at her family.

Gudruny sighed, looking at them. “If clothes were armor, you would be defended against all your enemies,” she said. “And you’ve your wits, too—that’s something.”

“Splendid,” said Briar drily. “I now feel suitably armed for a swim in a tub of molasses.”

“She’s just being cautious—that’s Gudruny’s way,” Sandry told him. “And you
do
look fine.” She smoothed
away a wrinkle in Tris’s overgown. “Definitely a match for all these Bags.”

Briar grinned at her use of slang. Bowing, he offered her his arm. “May I?” he asked gallantly. “At least, until one of those Bag boys tears you away from me?”

Sandry laughed. “There isn’t a man here who could do that for more than an hour.”

“Are you sure?” asked Briar, raising an eyebrow. “Nobody?”

Sandry blushed slightly, but said firmly, “Nobody.”

One of Sandry’s new footmen led them to the Moonlight Hall, where the party was being held. As they entered the room, Briar said, “Well, I mean to tear myself away from you a bit tonight. That Caidy just might get herself kissed, if she’s lucky.”

“And more if she’s unlucky?” Daja asked.

“No girl who draws my eye is ever unlucky,” Briar assured her solemnly. “How could she be?”

“It’s a good thing we know you’re not really this conceited, or we’d have to take you down a peg or twelve,” murmured Tris. “Shurri bless me, this room is
packed.
”

“Don’t run away too soon,” Sandry pleaded, looking over her shoulder at Tris. “I know you hate parties, but please stay with me. You can glare all the idiots away, since Briar’s leaving me forlorn on the sidelines.”

Though Tris consented to keep her company, Sandry did not remain on the sidelines for long. Fin was the first to
claim a dance when the musicians began to play, followed by Jak, Ambros, and Quen.

After Quen handed Sandry off to Shan, he chose to sink into a chair beside Tris. “Hello, Red. You’d like Imperial Service,” Quen said abruptly, his eyes smiling at her. “Her Imperial Majesty understands the value of research.”

“Does
everyone
know she’s asked me?” Tris inquired. “Let me think about it!”

“Just Isha and I know. Very well, I won’t pester you. Do you know why Shan waited till now to ask
Clehame
Sandry to dance? Berenene left the room to attend to some reports.” When Tris glanced at the empty throne, then looked at him, Quen shrugged. “She wouldn’t be at all happy to see her current lover paying court to Sandry.”

Tris fingered one of her free braids. “So that’s how things stand,” she murmured.

“For now,” Quen replied. He reached out a long arm and snagged a glass of wine for himself and a cup of cherry juice for Tris. He handed her the juice, saying, “I noticed that you four are the kind of mages who don’t drink spirits. As for Shan—Berenene’s moods change. Her lovers change.”

“And I suppose you’ll tell her, to help her mood change?” Tris asked, sipping her juice.

Quen chuckled. “No. She doesn’t like tattletales, either.” He grimaced and drained his glass. “She
really
doesn’t like them. But she’s no fool. She’ll learn about Shan’s little game soon enough.” He handed his glass to another servant. “So
tell me, what’s Niklaren Goldeye like outside a classroom? I took one of his courses when I was at Lightsbridge. Every day I came out of one of his lectures, I felt like my brain was overstuffed.”

Tris cackled with glee. “That’s Niko, all right,” she told him. “I thought my brain would explode for that first year.”

As Tris and Quen talked about Niko, and then Lightsbridge, Daja watched the dancing from a seat next to Rizu. Sooner or later all of the younger courtiers came to sit around them, leaving and returning to dance or to nibble and drink as servants loaded the tables at the far end of the silver-gilded room. Daja relaxed, feeling more comfortable in this gathering than she had expected to. She wasn’t hungry, and limited her drinking to the fruit juice that was served along with the wine.

Finally Rizu patted her face with a lace-edged handkerchief. “I am suffocating,” she whispered to Daja. “Let’s go cool off.”

Daja was happy to go. The room was full of people who danced and sweated, while the many candles that lit the room made it even hotter. Though heat didn’t bother her, she would welcome a breath of fresher air. She followed Rizu out, winding through clusters of courtiers, until they passed through one of the double doors to the terrace. There they leaned against a broad stone rail in the shadows. Daja lifted her heavy weight of beaded braids to let the cool night breeze flow across her neck.

“Are all the parties here so, so populated?” she asked Rizu.

Her companion laughed. “This is an intimate gathering,” she informed Daja. “Wait till two weeks from now, with the banquet and ball for the ambassador from Lairan. Then all the
old
nobility will totter in, and the people who don’t really approve of the way Her Imperial Majesty lives her life, though they do approve of the peace and prosperity she brings. And then there will be all the other ambassadors…” Her full mouth widened in a brilliant smile. “Except perhaps the Yanjing ambassador, who may be feeling ill by then.”

Daja smiled, briefly remembering Sandry’s first maneuver before the empress. At the same time, seeing the way the light struck Rizu’s curly lashes, casting their shadow over her eyes, she thought, She’s so beautiful. The question burst out of her before she realized it: “Why aren’t you dancing? You haven’t danced all night. And nobody’s asked you, even though you’re almost as beautiful as the empress.”

Rizu smiled. “You think so, truly?”

Daja opened her lips to say that of course she thought so, but she didn’t get to speak. Instead, Rizu leaned over and kissed her softly, gently, on the mouth.

After a moment, she pulled away. There was a look of worry in her eyes. Her hands were fisted in her skirts.

“Oh,” said Daja when she remembered how to talk. She felt as if the sun had just catapulted into her mind. Dazzled
with what it showed her, she realized also, Rizu’s afraid. She’s had enough people tell her no that she’s not sure…

Strictly to make Rizu feel better, certainly not because she wanted more of that sunlight spilling into her heart and mind, Daja leaned over and kissed Rizu’s mouth all on her own. Then, rather than ruin the quiet between them, Rizu took Daja’s hand and led her into the palace by a door that did not open into the Moonlight Hall.

“I’m serious—stop laughing!” murmured Fin as he twirled Sandry around in the dance figure called “the Rose.” “Just the two of us, with your maid for chaperone, tomorrow or the next day. There’s a cove down on the Syth where the pools are inlaid with semiprecious stone. It’s exquisite. You’ll be enchanted.”

“But I don’t know you well enough, Fin,” Sandry replied in her lightest tone. “What if a strong fellow like you were to kidnap me and try to make me sign that marriage contract I keep hearing about?” She batted her eyelashes at him, as if she didn’t really believe he might try that. The truth was that once she knew it was possible, she suspected the men that Berenene had assigned to court her most of all. As far as Sandry knew, they could have orders to marry her by summer’s end, one way or another.

“But you’re a mage,” he coaxed, leading her in a circle with the other dancers. “And kin to Her Imperial Majesty. You—”

A surge of emotion—tenderness, shock, heat that flooded her veins and made her muscles loose—struck Sandry like a wave, making her sway. At a distance, as if she were someone else, she felt lips touch hers in a kiss, and she kissed back.

Oh my, she thought, very severely rattled. Daja and, and Rizu.

She grabbed Fin by both arms, partly to steady herself, partly to make her story convincing. “I’m sorry,” she said. She flashed a smile at her fellow dancers and spoke a little more loudly. “It’s very warm in here, isn’t it?” Hurriedly she threw up a barrier on her connection to Daja, who was following Rizu giddily. “I’m sorry, I really must sit down.”

A lady’s wish was a command at a dance. Fin guided Sandry to a chair. “May I get you something cool?” he asked, concerned, as she located her fan.

“Shaved ice would be wonderful, thank you,” she said. She waved the fan hurriedly, trying to cool the scarlet blush she felt rising on her cheeks. Once he was gone and she didn’t have to work to talk to him, she put up more blocks on her connection to her sister, trying to keep it open without knowing anything of what Daja was up to now. Only when she had reduced it to the merest thread did she lean back in her chair and close her eyes.

I don’t think she knew, thought Sandry. Or if she did, she thought she was more like Rosethorn, interested in women
and men. I know she’s mentioned boys, once or twice, but never girls. Thinking of Rizu, Sandry added, Or women.

A hand rested on her shoulder, making Sandry jump. She turned as Shan bent down and whispered in her ear, “It’s cooler outside.”

And it’s dark, so nobody can see my face till I get myself under control, Sandry added silently. She bounced out of her chair and followed Shan onto a terrace, thankfully a different terrace from the one Daja and Rizu had just left. She wasn’t completely sure that the other terrace wasn’t aglow from that sudden flare of passion in Daja.

“Oh dear,” she whispered, hesitating. “Fin will think I’ve deserted him.”

“Tell me he doesn’t deserve it for hounding you,” Shan replied quietly, tugging her away from the windows. “I saw the look on your face when you were dancing with him. He’ll recover.”

Sandry shook her head, but she didn’t resist the tug on her hand any longer. Shan was right. She
was
uncomfortably warm. I’ll tell Fin I was going to faint unless I got fresh air. I’ll make it up to him somehow. Maybe he’ll take the hint and stop trying to get me alone.

Out here, the wind cooled Sandry’s hot face. She let Shan guide her to a shadowed bench, where she sat with relief. “Sometimes there are things you just don’t want to know the details of,” she murmured.

Shan took a seat next to her. “Was that aimed at me?” he asked.

“Goodness, no,” Sandry replied. “Oh, dear, Tris is up there again.” She pointed up to the curtain wall.

Shan was a large source of warmth against Sandry’s left side. “The Master of Ceremonies should just build her a room up there,” he remarked, his voice soft music over her shoulder. “Has she always liked high places?”

Hearing his male rumble, Sandry felt better, less giddy. “Well, she
is
a weather mage,” she pointed out. “It’s the best place to reach for weather. If we weren’t sure where to find her, back at Discipline, the wall was the first place we started. We—”

Fingers touched her chin and turned her head. Shan bent down to kiss Sandry gently.

She jumped away as if stung. The sensation was too close to Daja, what Daja had felt. Sandry couldn’t tell the difference between her reaction to Shan and Daja’s to Rizu. “Please don’t be offended,” she said, even more rattled now. “I…I’m just, all the light and the dancing—I really must get back to it!”

She fled back into the Moonlight Hall, this time almost flinging herself into Jak’s arms. “I promised you a dance, didn’t I? Isn’t this a lovely time for a dance? I think so!”

Jak frowned at her, his open face worried. “Are you all right, Sandry?” he asked. “Has someone insulted you?” He
looked up and glared at Shan, who had followed Sandry inside. “If fer Roth upset you in any way—”

Sandry covered Jak’s mouth with her hand. “I’m
fine
,” she told him, catching her breath. “Let’s dance, please.”

As Jak guided her out onto the floor, Sandry gave herself a good talking-to. You’ve been kissed before, she scolded silently. Now you act like a girl who put on her first veil just a day ago. Get hold of yourself and stop acting like a ninnyhammer! Try some of the complicated dances you keep refusing to do. Concentrating on your feet could keep your silly imagination from, well, imagining.

She danced often and, despite her fears about the complex dances, very well. She danced until her garments were soaked with perspiration and she couldn’t catch her breath. Only when her feet began to hurt did she excuse herself and retire to her rooms.