garden’s midst, stood the teahouse, aglow with its garland of kelistars. With a sudden squall of nerves, Abramm ended his conversation with Trap and went on alone, hearing his friend’s voice, low and indignant behind him: “What the plague, Captain! You’re encouraging them?”
Out of earshot before he heard Channon’s reply, Abramm grimaced with annoyance. Where had Trap gotten the idea there was a them to encourage? All Abramm wanted to do was talk to her without that insufferable Leyton listening in, and without all the court getting the wrong idea.
Wrapped and hooded in her cloak, Madeleine stood at the rail of the overlook, staring over an array of terraces lit with swirls of tiny orblights. She must have heard the grit of his feet on the gravel, for she turned toward him while he was still some yards off. Seeing him, her eyes widened and her body stiffened.
“Ah, Lady Madeleine,” he said, drawing up before her. “I hoped I might find you out here.”
“Your majesty.” She dropped him a curtsey.
“I trust I’m not intruding.”
“Of course not.” But it was obvious from her tone and manner that he was. She straightened, her eyes darting up to his and down again so quickly he wondered anew if his scars, stark and shocking now on his newly cleanshaven face, were putting her off.
An awkward silence ensued, and after a moment she turned back to the rail. Distant strains of music warbled, overlain by the crackling of his men’s booted feet on the ground cover as they ranged out around him, their protective net unusually close tonight on account of this morning’s attack.
Finally Abramm murmured, “Shaving the beard was your idea, you know.”
Her chin came primly up, only the front lines of her profile visible beyond her cloak’s hood. “And a good idea, too,” she said, still facing the garden. “You looked very handsome today.”
He snorted. “Please, my lady. You needn’t lie to me. I know what I look like.”
She continued to stare at the garden for a moment, then sighed and watched her gloved hand stroke the marble balustrade before her. “No, sir, I don’t think you do.”
“I’ve seen my face, Maddie. This morning, when I bid them to uncover the mirror.”
“You didn’t see your face. All you saw were the scars.”
He gave a bitter chuckle. “It’s hardly possible to see anything else.”
Now, finally, she turned toward him, staring up at him from out of the cowl’s shadows. He watched her eyes, wide and dark, rove across his face, touching the scars only briefly before meeting his gaze. Her expression softened and she shook her head. “Oh no, Abramm, it’s very possible not to see them at all.” And for a moment she reminded him of Shettai standing on that Xorofin balcony, staring up at him with a tearstained face. Except that Madeleine wasn’t crying.
He frowned. “Well, then, why have you been so standoffish today? Why do you act like it hurts to look at me?”
Her breath caught and the softening vanished as she turned back to the garden. “You just signed a treaty agreeing to marry my sister. What do you want me to do? Throw myself at you like Lady Leona does?”
“Of course not!” He laid a gloved hand on the balustrade, leaning so he could see her face around the edge of the concealing cowl. “I just want you to be normal again.”
“Well, I can’t be normal. Not with everything that’s happened.”
“You mean the ceremony?”
She was silent for a long time. “My troubles are hardly your concern, sir. Just believe me when I say it’s been a . . . a very hard day.” And with this last, her voice trembled and she turned her face away from him, hiding behind that wretched cowl.
He frowned at her, more befuddled than ever. Before he could pursue the matter, however, she pushed off the rail and stepped away from him. “I’m getting cold. Do you mind if we walk a bit?”
“Of course not.” It must be Leyton haranguing her about all those
Out of earshot before he heard Channon’s reply, Abramm grimaced with annoyance. Where had Trap gotten the idea there was a them to encourage? All Abramm wanted to do was talk to her without that insufferable Leyton listening in, and without all the court getting the wrong idea.
Wrapped and hooded in her cloak, Madeleine stood at the rail of the overlook, staring over an array of terraces lit with swirls of tiny orblights. She must have heard the grit of his feet on the gravel, for she turned toward him while he was still some yards off. Seeing him, her eyes widened and her body stiffened.
“Ah, Lady Madeleine,” he said, drawing up before her. “I hoped I might find you out here.”
“Your majesty.” She dropped him a curtsey.
“I trust I’m not intruding.”
“Of course not.” But it was obvious from her tone and manner that he was. She straightened, her eyes darting up to his and down again so quickly he wondered anew if his scars, stark and shocking now on his newly cleanshaven face, were putting her off.
An awkward silence ensued, and after a moment she turned back to the rail. Distant strains of music warbled, overlain by the crackling of his men’s booted feet on the ground cover as they ranged out around him, their protective net unusually close tonight on account of this morning’s attack.
Finally Abramm murmured, “Shaving the beard was your idea, you know.”
Her chin came primly up, only the front lines of her profile visible beyond her cloak’s hood. “And a good idea, too,” she said, still facing the garden. “You looked very handsome today.”
He snorted. “Please, my lady. You needn’t lie to me. I know what I look like.”
She continued to stare at the garden for a moment, then sighed and watched her gloved hand stroke the marble balustrade before her. “No, sir, I don’t think you do.”
“I’ve seen my face, Maddie. This morning, when I bid them to uncover the mirror.”
“You didn’t see your face. All you saw were the scars.”
He gave a bitter chuckle. “It’s hardly possible to see anything else.”
Now, finally, she turned toward him, staring up at him from out of the cowl’s shadows. He watched her eyes, wide and dark, rove across his face, touching the scars only briefly before meeting his gaze. Her expression softened and she shook her head. “Oh no, Abramm, it’s very possible not to see them at all.” And for a moment she reminded him of Shettai standing on that Xorofin balcony, staring up at him with a tearstained face. Except that Madeleine wasn’t crying.
He frowned. “Well, then, why have you been so standoffish today? Why do you act like it hurts to look at me?”
Her breath caught and the softening vanished as she turned back to the garden. “You just signed a treaty agreeing to marry my sister. What do you want me to do? Throw myself at you like Lady Leona does?”
“Of course not!” He laid a gloved hand on the balustrade, leaning so he could see her face around the edge of the concealing cowl. “I just want you to be normal again.”
“Well, I can’t be normal. Not with everything that’s happened.”
“You mean the ceremony?”
She was silent for a long time. “My troubles are hardly your concern, sir. Just believe me when I say it’s been a . . . a very hard day.” And with this last, her voice trembled and she turned her face away from him, hiding behind that wretched cowl.
He frowned at her, more befuddled than ever. Before he could pursue the matter, however, she pushed off the rail and stepped away from him. “I’m getting cold. Do you mind if we walk a bit?”
“Of course not.” It must be Leyton haranguing her about all those
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