Winds of Fury (30 page)

Now she turned, to see her stepfather beaming with approval, and her mother doing a creditable imitation of a landed fish. Controlling herself carefully, she concluded her speech.

“Therefore, I ask you—you of the Council and Court, and you, Queen and Consort—to accept my abdication and allow me to take my proper place as one Herald among many. I will always be my mother's true daughter, but I no longer wish to be a cause of worry and conflict. And I wish to place my abilities, my life, and my honor fully in the service of my land and people.” She looked pleadingly into her mother's eyes. “Will you say me ‘aye'?”

Selenay never had a chance to respond, for Prince Daren led the Council and Court in a thundering acceptance of her audacious solution.

 

It was all over. With weary feet, Elspeth took service corridors rather than the main halls of the Palace. Servants ignored her as just another Herald, although a few stopped to stare at her unique Whites, and one young man paused long enough to whisper, “Herald, that is a
fine
set of Whites!”

She smiled at him and winked. From the look of him, he had a fine sense of fashion himself. Someone had clearly taken a creative hand to his servants' livery. He winked back and hurried on.

But on the whole, Elspeth felt rather as if she had been run through a clothes-wringer in the Palace laundry and hung out to dry. Even after her abdication was a fact, there had still been a hundred things to deal with.

The introduction of the rest of the party, for instance, and the explanations of what, exactly, their positions were, and what they brought to Valdemar's defense. Selenay, still stunned from the abdication, had been taken quite a bit aback by the gryphons, until Hydona had said, quietly, in quite creditable Valdemaran, “I underssstand herrr Majesssty isss the motherrr of twinssss?” and at Selenay's nod had uttered a long-suffering sigh and continued, “Then we have a grrreat deal in common.”

And since Lytha had chosen that particular moment to bite Jerven's tail, causing him to squall, and Hydona to reach back absentmindedly and separate them both, Selenay had come out of her stunned trance immediately and graced Hydona with a smile that united them at once in a bond of mother-to-mother. Talia had covered her mouth, hiding a grin. So had Elspeth. No one would ever be able to convince Selenay now that the gryphons were “dangerous animals.”

Firesong had quite dazzled the Court; he seemed born to manipulate crowds. And by the time Court had been formally ended, he had collected a little court of his own, both he and his firebird posing and preening quite shamelessly. Darkwind went almost unnoticed, and so did Nyara.

Which had probably been Firesong's intent, or at least one of his intentions.

Then there had been the joyful task of greeting all of her old friends, and explaining to them all that she had thought this through very carefully, and
yes,
it was the best solution to the situation. “Ancar has been focusing on me as a target, one that he knows,” she had continued. “He doesn't know anything about the twins, and they're children, much easier to guard day-and-night because they have no duties. Mother could even send them off into hiding if she had to.”

Of all of them, Kero had understood the best, Kero and her stepfather. But eventually all of them accepted it.

She had made a point of not introducing Darkwind specifically. There was no reason to start up rumors yet, not until after she dealt with Selenay.

Then had come the dreaded confrontation with her mother.

Which turned out not to be a confrontation at all.

She still couldn't quite believe it. At some point during her absence, Selenay had come to accept the fact that Elspeth was grown up now, and capable of making her own decisions. “You will always be my darling daughter,” she had said, after a long and tear-filled embrace, “but you are also a wise woman, wiser and braver than I am. You
have
seen the best solution to your divided duties. And while I shall
hate
seeing you go into danger, I can't deny you your right to do so.”

That had brought out another freshet of tears from both of them, until Selenay was called to a meeting of the Council. Elspeth, no longer Heir and so no longer required to attend, had gone off to her new quarters.

The rooms were the ones assigned to important and high-ranking guests. She had asked to be installed next to Darkwind, in rooms with a connecting door. She hadn't spent all of her childhood running about the Palace without learning the layout of the place. She had made very sure that she knew exactly where each and every member of her group had been housed. The Seneschal had given her a startled look that turned to a knowing one, and nodded once.

And now she no longer had to worry about what people thought. It didn't matter anymore. She was not the Heir; her liaisons were no one's business but her own.

The feeling of freedom was as heady as a draught of strong wine.

She opened the door, and closed it behind her, letting her eyes adjust to the dim light filtering in through the closed curtains. This should be—yes, was—a suite of two rooms, a public room and a bedroom. She pushed away from the door and sought the latter.

There was a basin and pitcher of water on a washstand in her bedroom; once again she had a twinge of nostalgia for the Vale, but this would have to serve until she could get to the shared bathing room. She splashed some water on her face to wash away the marks of tears, brushed out her hair, and then went back into the sitting room and tapped on the door dividing her rooms from Darkwind's.

He opened it, clearly startled that there was anyone seeking entrance, and clearly
not
expecting her. She took advantage of his startlement by flinging herself at him, and within a heartbeat he had recovered quite enough to return her embrace. It was just as heartfelt and passionate as she had hoped, and he left his mind open to her completely, leaving her no doubt whatsoever of how he truly felt. Profound gratitude and relief, a touch of guilt that despite her speech she might have done this only for him, and love and pride.

She was the first to break off the kiss, reluctantly; but he was the first to speak.

“You were magnificent,” he said fervently in his own tongue. “Absolutely magnificent. You made me so proud!”

“Good,” she replied, taking his hand and pulling him into her room. “Now, let's get to the serious business, before we do or say anything else.”

He nodded quickly, following her inside, and closing the connecting door as he did so. “Of course—you are right, we must make war plans, dealing with this Ancar, and how we can identify and train the new mages—”

“No,” she told him, laying a finger on his lips to stop the flow of words. “That's serious, but there's something else that needs settling first. You—and me.”

He blinked at her a moment, taken quite by surprise. “Ah—I'm not sure—exactly what—” He blinked for a moment more, then let out his breath as if he had been holding it for days. “You and I. Well. Perhaps the first thing we should do is sit down.”

She laughed a little. “Good idea.”

The rooms that adjoined one another were deliberately designed so that ambassadors could hold informal court. His would be the mirror image of hers, with a fireplace in the wall the two rooms shared, a desk, several chairs, and a small couch where someone who was ailing or infirm (as many senior diplomats were) could recline at his ease. He led the way to the couch, and she sat down beside him. The light from outside was beginning to fade, but no servant would dare venture in here to light candles until they were called for, which was exactly how she had ordered it. They would be undisturbed until she wished otherwise, for the first time in her life.

“I need to know something right now,” she said, as he visibly searched for words to begin the conversation. “What are your long-term intentions and plans? As regards us, our relationship, that is.”

He swallowed, and took a deep breath. “I'm taking this all very well, am I not?” he replied, with a weak grin. “Actually, you flung a rock into what had been a quiet and ordered pond. I
was
going to keep myself strictly in the background. I had intended to suborn myself to your needs and wishes, and keep everything so discreet that no one would ever guess what was going on. Firesong and I had even planned on creating the fiction that he and I were
shay'kreth'ashke,
just to throw anyone off the scent. After all, we'd already convinced Shion of that. But now—I suppose I don't need to.”

“No, you don't,” she replied, then grinned. “In fact, I'd rather like it if you were as blatant as possible. The more
ineligible
I make myself for the throne, the better. Although I know there is going to be at least one person who would prefer the original plan. Poor Firesong is going to be
terribly
disappointed!” She gave him an arch look. “After all, it was your hair that he wanted to braid feathers into!”

He stared at her a moment longer, then broke into laughter that came within a hair of hysteria but never quite crossed the line. She smiled but didn't join him this time. Her neck and stomach were taut with tension, for he still hadn't answered her question. There was something in her pocket that was burning a fiery hole in her heart.

Finally he calmed, and wiped his eyes. “Well,” he said at last, “my intentions are honorable, at least. I should like very much, Elspeth k'Sheyna k'Valdemar, if you would accept a feather from my bondbird.”

“I hope you have a spare,” she replied, with a chuckle born of intense relief and a desire to shout with joy. “I would like very much to accept, but Vree will never forgive me if you run back into your room and pluck him.”

But to her surprise, he reached into an inner pocket in the breast of his clothing and brought out a forestgyre primary—one with a shaft covered in beadwork of tiny crystals hardly bigger than grains of sand. It had a hair-tie of a silver clasp with two matching silver chains ending in azure crystals.

“I have held this next to my heart for the past several months,” he said solemnly, “Never thinking you would be able to wear it openly, and not sure you would even be able to accept it at all.”

Her vision blurred as he spoke the traditional words that signified a Hawkbrother marriage. “Elspeth, will you wear my feather, for all the world and skies to see?”

She took it from him, her hands trembling; started to fasten it into her hair, but her hands shook too much to do so and he had to help her. Her heart raced as if she had been running fast, and she could not stop smiling—her skin tingled and burned, and she wanted to laugh, sing, cry—all of them at once.

Instead, she took out her own gift. “I don't have a bondbird,” she said. “I don't know how Gwena will feel about this. I can only hope she feels the way I do.”

She held out the ring on her open palm, a silver ring with an overlay of crystal. Sandwiched between was an intricately braided band of incandescently white horsehair, hairs carefully pulled from Gwena's tail, one at a time, so that each hair was perfect. She'd had the ring made up by one of the
hertasi
several months ago, never really hoping she would be able to use it, but unable to give up the dream that she might.

He took it and placed it on his ring finger, and she noticed with a certain amount of pleasure that his hands were trembling as much as hers now. “
Hertasi
work, isn't it?” he asked, rather too casually.

She nodded. He looked at the ring closely.

“In fact—I think I know the artisan. Kelee, isn't it? ”

Again she nodded. “I've probably had it as long as you've had the feather,” she ventured.

He chuckled. “And the
hertasi
, no doubt, have been chortling to themselves for some time. They are inveterate matchmakers, you know.”

She thought about the sly way that Kelee had looked at her when he had given her the finished ring, and could only sigh and nod.

“Well,” he said at last, after a long silence. “This is a good thing. I think that my parents and Clan would approve.”

Elspeth squeezed his hand and said quietly, “It doesn't matter if they do or not. My feelings would be the same.”

Darkwind smiled. “Mine as well.”

They embraced again. “Perhaps ‘Darkwind' is no longer a proper name for me. You have brought too much light into my life for it to apply anymore. I no longer feel like a lowering storm since joining with you, bright feather.”

Elspeth nodded and bit her lower lip. “But . . . there are still storms approaching.”

“Yes. We have many plans to make, and many to discard. I think that this is likely to be a very late night. . . .”