rumors . She’d not cared about them before, but with her brother’s coming and Abramm’s signing of the treaty, the courtiers’ antipathy toward her had intensified. With half his nobles still outraged at his “inexplicably rash” decision, she was the natural focus for their anger. And Leyton’s fixation with the regalia hadn’t helped.
They strolled along the winding path through sculpted topiaries, the thin strains of violin wafting through the darkness around them. The early spring night was cold, the air heavy with the scent of damp leaves. Terstan orblights sat along the path and rested in various holders along the way, while overhead the trees stretched their bud-swollen branches against a brittle, star-filled sky.
“Was there something you wished to speak to me about?” she asked finally, her voice resuming its normal pitch and stability.
Was there anything else he wanted to talk about besides her inexplicable behavior toward him today? Ah, yes . . . the manifestation. “I was wondering if you saw any of what I saw while the Light was on me this morning. The galleys moored at Graymeer’s. More of them coming out of fog-bound islands. The northland in shadow. . . . A great army beneath our combined banners. . . .”
An arched footbridge rose up before them to span a chuckling streamlet, their footsteps echoing hollowly as they crossed it. She said she remembered nothing but the Light, blazing out of him, then added, “You really saw the galleys at Graymeer’s?”
He nodded. “At the same time they were actually there, I think. I saw a great red dragon, too, flying overhead.”
“A red dragon?” she breathed, her surprise evident. Of course she’d made the connection at once: he wore a red dragon on his arm.
“I have no idea whether it’s real or symbolic. Maybe both. It seemed to mock me.”
They walked on for a bit before she said, “I saw nothing like that.”
He frowned. “So what did you see?”
She shrugged.
“Well, you must’ve seen something. What made you faint?”
“How did you know I fainted?” she burst out, stepping around to face him and bringing them both to a halt. “Did Leyton—”
“Simon told me.”
“Oh.” She looked at her feet, the cloak’s cowl dropping forward to hide her face. “Well . . . it wasn’t a real faint,” she said to the ground.
Abramm felt his brows fly up. “You were pretending to faint? You? My lady, I must say—”
“Not pretending!” Her head came up sharply and she glowered at him. “I was just . . . unsteady on my feet.” With that she turned away and started down the path again.
He hurried after her, asking as he came abreast, “Why? What did you see?”
“Blackwell passed out entirely, though. Had to be carried from the hall and was taken to his rooms.”
“I know.”
“Had another one of his fits, they said.”
“Yes, I know that, too.”
“It’s a pity what happened to him that day at Seven Peaks.”
“Aye. It is.” He frowned at her. “But I don’t want to talk about Blackwell right now, my lady. I want to know what made you ‘unsteady on your feet.”’
Again the tension thickened between them. She wrapped her arms about herself beneath her cloak and walked on without speaking. Then, “You don’t want to know, Abramm. It means nothing. And it would only—” She stopped. Swallowed. “It would only make things worse.”
“What things? How?”
At that point she reached the last straw of patience, whipping round on him and snapping out, “Didn’t you learn your lesson with Trap last night?! Some things it’s just better not to know.”
“Why are you angry with me, my lady?” he protested helplessly, feeling as if they were playing a game of snap the whip and he was on the end of the whip. “What have I done?”
“Nothing! I’m not angry with you .” And now she had her back to him again. “I’m angry with myself.”
This conversation was growing more opaque by the minute, and
They strolled along the winding path through sculpted topiaries, the thin strains of violin wafting through the darkness around them. The early spring night was cold, the air heavy with the scent of damp leaves. Terstan orblights sat along the path and rested in various holders along the way, while overhead the trees stretched their bud-swollen branches against a brittle, star-filled sky.
“Was there something you wished to speak to me about?” she asked finally, her voice resuming its normal pitch and stability.
Was there anything else he wanted to talk about besides her inexplicable behavior toward him today? Ah, yes . . . the manifestation. “I was wondering if you saw any of what I saw while the Light was on me this morning. The galleys moored at Graymeer’s. More of them coming out of fog-bound islands. The northland in shadow. . . . A great army beneath our combined banners. . . .”
An arched footbridge rose up before them to span a chuckling streamlet, their footsteps echoing hollowly as they crossed it. She said she remembered nothing but the Light, blazing out of him, then added, “You really saw the galleys at Graymeer’s?”
He nodded. “At the same time they were actually there, I think. I saw a great red dragon, too, flying overhead.”
“A red dragon?” she breathed, her surprise evident. Of course she’d made the connection at once: he wore a red dragon on his arm.
“I have no idea whether it’s real or symbolic. Maybe both. It seemed to mock me.”
They walked on for a bit before she said, “I saw nothing like that.”
He frowned. “So what did you see?”
She shrugged.
“Well, you must’ve seen something. What made you faint?”
“How did you know I fainted?” she burst out, stepping around to face him and bringing them both to a halt. “Did Leyton—”
“Simon told me.”
“Oh.” She looked at her feet, the cloak’s cowl dropping forward to hide her face. “Well . . . it wasn’t a real faint,” she said to the ground.
Abramm felt his brows fly up. “You were pretending to faint? You? My lady, I must say—”
“Not pretending!” Her head came up sharply and she glowered at him. “I was just . . . unsteady on my feet.” With that she turned away and started down the path again.
He hurried after her, asking as he came abreast, “Why? What did you see?”
“Blackwell passed out entirely, though. Had to be carried from the hall and was taken to his rooms.”
“I know.”
“Had another one of his fits, they said.”
“Yes, I know that, too.”
“It’s a pity what happened to him that day at Seven Peaks.”
“Aye. It is.” He frowned at her. “But I don’t want to talk about Blackwell right now, my lady. I want to know what made you ‘unsteady on your feet.”’
Again the tension thickened between them. She wrapped her arms about herself beneath her cloak and walked on without speaking. Then, “You don’t want to know, Abramm. It means nothing. And it would only—” She stopped. Swallowed. “It would only make things worse.”
“What things? How?”
At that point she reached the last straw of patience, whipping round on him and snapping out, “Didn’t you learn your lesson with Trap last night?! Some things it’s just better not to know.”
“Why are you angry with me, my lady?” he protested helplessly, feeling as if they were playing a game of snap the whip and he was on the end of the whip. “What have I done?”
“Nothing! I’m not angry with you .” And now she had her back to him again. “I’m angry with myself.”
This conversation was growing more opaque by the minute, and
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