was a feminine feel to it, for all the hangings were in soft pinks and deep creams, and cold sunlight poured in through the tall windows.
Valri was sitting in a striped chair, her hands folded in her lap and her expression grave. It wasn’t just her black hair and midnight-blue gown that gave her an impression of darkness; she seemed pooled with tension and gloom. By contrast, Amalie, standing and smiling down at the queen, radiated light. She was still wearing her gold dress and her red-gold hair was unbound. She stood in the sunshine and seemed to be made of some burnished and beautiful element.
“Majesties,” Senneth said, and curtseyed. Cammon echoed her with a clumsy bow.
Amalie flew across the room, put her hands on Cammon’s shoulders, and kissed him on the cheek.
He forgot everything else.
“Cammon!” the princess exclaimed, stepping back a little but keeping one hand on his sleeve. “Thank you for saving my father’s life! What would have happened if you hadn’t been there? I can’t bear to think about it.”
“Well, I was there,” was all he could think to say, and it sounded idiotic. He beamed down at her.
“And thank all the gods for that,” she replied warmly.
Senneth moved between them with apparent carelessness, but Cammon knew she did it on purpose. Amalie dropped her hand. “What would have happened is that the assassin would have pulled his knife and leapt for the king, and your uncle Romar would have interfered, and probably killed the man, and the commotion would have brought the Riders in, and your father might have been wounded but he would not have died.”
“You can’t know that,” Amalie said.
“No,” said Senneth, “but that is truly what I believe. Come, shall we sit down?”
They pulled chairs up next to Valri, all of them wanting to bask in the sunlight. The dark queen said, “I admit, I was surprised to see the regent pull a sword. I thought only Riders were allowed weapons inside the palace walls.”
Senneth smiled. “Yes, but Lord Romar is a swordsman, and a good one, too, and his loyalty is beyond question. So, he is allowed to bear arms.”
“I wish we could simply close up the palace and never speak to another soul,” Valri said. “Keep everybody safe within its walls.”
“Hardly an effective way to govern,” Senneth said gently.
“And now we are to have a parade of suitors vying for Amalie’s hand, and every last one of them will be lying about something, and we shall have to be on our guard every single hour of every single day,” the queen said bitterly. “I spent all of last summer afraid for her life, and now I shall have to be afraid all over again.”
Cammon was interested to see that it was Amalie who leaned forward to offer comfort. Amalie was only six or seven years younger than her stepmother, and the bond between them appeared to be very tight. Sometimes last summer Cammon had been unsure who was the stronger, though. Amalie was so fresh and unspoiled, and Valri so intense.
“Don’t be afraid, Valri,” Amalie said in her soft voice. “We have friends around us night and day. We are as safe as anybody can be.”
T HEY conferred for maybe an hour, Cammon and the three women who were now, apparently, going to direct his life. Truth to tell, he didn’t add much to the conversation, just sat there feeling a peculiar sense of satisfaction. It was as if the strength of their personalities warmed him as much as the sunshine did, filled him with a similar kind of glow. Senneth and Valri discussed what Cammon should wear, what he might expect to hear when serramar came calling, how often they should meet to strategize. And then, as if they could not help themselves, they began speculating on which heirs from which Houses might make the best match for the princess.
“If only your brother Will wasn’t set to marry Casserah Danalustrous!” the queen exclaimed. “Think what a good match Brassenthwaite would be for the
Valri was sitting in a striped chair, her hands folded in her lap and her expression grave. It wasn’t just her black hair and midnight-blue gown that gave her an impression of darkness; she seemed pooled with tension and gloom. By contrast, Amalie, standing and smiling down at the queen, radiated light. She was still wearing her gold dress and her red-gold hair was unbound. She stood in the sunshine and seemed to be made of some burnished and beautiful element.
“Majesties,” Senneth said, and curtseyed. Cammon echoed her with a clumsy bow.
Amalie flew across the room, put her hands on Cammon’s shoulders, and kissed him on the cheek.
He forgot everything else.
“Cammon!” the princess exclaimed, stepping back a little but keeping one hand on his sleeve. “Thank you for saving my father’s life! What would have happened if you hadn’t been there? I can’t bear to think about it.”
“Well, I was there,” was all he could think to say, and it sounded idiotic. He beamed down at her.
“And thank all the gods for that,” she replied warmly.
Senneth moved between them with apparent carelessness, but Cammon knew she did it on purpose. Amalie dropped her hand. “What would have happened is that the assassin would have pulled his knife and leapt for the king, and your uncle Romar would have interfered, and probably killed the man, and the commotion would have brought the Riders in, and your father might have been wounded but he would not have died.”
“You can’t know that,” Amalie said.
“No,” said Senneth, “but that is truly what I believe. Come, shall we sit down?”
They pulled chairs up next to Valri, all of them wanting to bask in the sunlight. The dark queen said, “I admit, I was surprised to see the regent pull a sword. I thought only Riders were allowed weapons inside the palace walls.”
Senneth smiled. “Yes, but Lord Romar is a swordsman, and a good one, too, and his loyalty is beyond question. So, he is allowed to bear arms.”
“I wish we could simply close up the palace and never speak to another soul,” Valri said. “Keep everybody safe within its walls.”
“Hardly an effective way to govern,” Senneth said gently.
“And now we are to have a parade of suitors vying for Amalie’s hand, and every last one of them will be lying about something, and we shall have to be on our guard every single hour of every single day,” the queen said bitterly. “I spent all of last summer afraid for her life, and now I shall have to be afraid all over again.”
Cammon was interested to see that it was Amalie who leaned forward to offer comfort. Amalie was only six or seven years younger than her stepmother, and the bond between them appeared to be very tight. Sometimes last summer Cammon had been unsure who was the stronger, though. Amalie was so fresh and unspoiled, and Valri so intense.
“Don’t be afraid, Valri,” Amalie said in her soft voice. “We have friends around us night and day. We are as safe as anybody can be.”
T HEY conferred for maybe an hour, Cammon and the three women who were now, apparently, going to direct his life. Truth to tell, he didn’t add much to the conversation, just sat there feeling a peculiar sense of satisfaction. It was as if the strength of their personalities warmed him as much as the sunshine did, filled him with a similar kind of glow. Senneth and Valri discussed what Cammon should wear, what he might expect to hear when serramar came calling, how often they should meet to strategize. And then, as if they could not help themselves, they began speculating on which heirs from which Houses might make the best match for the princess.
“If only your brother Will wasn’t set to marry Casserah Danalustrous!” the queen exclaimed. “Think what a good match Brassenthwaite would be for the
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