The Lord-Protector's Daughter by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

under the coverlet and walked to the wall-shelf. The onyx box was there, and the candlesticks, but was there more light than she had thought? How could she tell? Abruptly, she closed her eyes, trying to “see” without them.
    Slowly, using her senses that were not sight, she reached out for the candlesticks, lifting the one on the left easily, without fumbling, then set it down. She moved sideways to the dressing table, her eyes still closed, and picked up the silver-handled hairbrush that had also been her mother’s. Then she lifted the powder box and set it down. Her hand was trembling.
    She knew she’d never been able to do that. It had to be something awakened by the soarer’s touch. But why her? She had no real power in Lanachrona. She didn’t even have any appreciable influence over her father or her brother.
    She shook her head, then smiled wryly in the darkness. Too bad the palace corridors weren’t kept that dark. Then she could just walk wherever she wanted, seeing where to go while others saw nothing.

8
    Mykella was up early on Sexdi and one of the first in the family at breakfast, although Salyna was already there. Feranyt followed, and then Rachylana, who wore a clinging green dress that was almost more suited to a ballroom than to the daily routine of a Lord-Protector’s daughter.
    Mykella wore one of her usual black tunics and trousers. She forced herself to wait to ask what she wanted to know until her father had finished eating and was taking a second mug of spiced tea.
    â€œWhat was Lord Joramyl like when you were growing up, Father?” Mykella inquired casually, taking a sip of the plain strong tea she preferred to the cider most women drank or the spiced tea her father liked. “He seems so proud and distant now.” Arrogant, self-serving, and aloof were what she really thought, but saying so would only have angered her father.
    â€œHe’s always been proud, but he was always kind to Mother and your Aunt Lalyna. He’d bring them both special gifts from all the places he served in the Southern Guards. Your aunt’s favorites were the perfumes he brought back from Southgate when he was your grandfather’s envoy there. She even took the empty bottles when she left for Soupat.” Feranyt shook his head. “I knew she’d have trouble with the heat there, but Father insisted on it.”
    Mykella couldn’t help but notice that her father did not mention how Joramyl and her mother had gotten along. “He’s rather formal with us. Was he always that way with most others in the family?” That was as close as she dared get to what she really wanted to know.
    â€œHe’s always been hard to get close to,” Feranyt replied, with a slight frown.
    â€œDid you play games together?” Mykella pursued, deciding that she’d best change her line of inquiry.
    Feranyt chuckled. “Joramyl was never one for games. Except for leschec. He got to be so good at it that he beat old Arms-Commander Paetryl. We didn’t play it together, not after we were very young. He was too serious about it for me.”
    Mykella could sense that even thinking about Joramyl and leschec bothered her father. “Did you spar with weapons?”
    â€œFather forbid it after I broke Joramyl’s wrist. If I hadn’t, that fight would have ended up with one of us badly hurt. I was better, but Joramyl wouldn’t ever quit.”
    The more her father said, the more concerned Mykella became, especially with what she had discovered about the missing tariff golds. Perhaps her father had mentioned what he was saying before, but she’d never paid that much attention, and now her own concerns gave a new meaning to her father’s childhood memories. “Do you think that he feels he’d be a better Lord-Protector than you?”
    â€œMykella! How could you ask that?” murmured Rachylana, leaning close to her