Sharon Shinn: Reader And Raelynx

“He considers Amalie more valuable.”

“So is this going to happen again and again? Murderers sneaking into the city to try to kill the king?”

Senneth sighed, glanced around, and pulled up a chair. He was sitting at the massive table in the middle of the enormous kitchen, and probably twenty cooks and scullery maids were scurrying around them, cleaning up the remains of the meal. Not the most private place to have a conversation. Still, by now everyone in the palace compound, down to the youngest groom in the stables, knew there had been an attempt on the life of the king.

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” she said. “We have heard talk of war for a year now. If I were to guess, I would say Halchon Gisseltess and his allies are waiting for good weather before making an assault on the throne. They plan to take us into battle-but if they can kill Baryn first, they will be that much closer to their goal.”

“Then-like I said-”

She smiled. “He has the Riders to protect him. You need to watch over Amalie.” She glanced around the kitchen again. “Actually, I thought you could watch over both of them. If you’re living at the palace, you’ll be able to sense anyone who comes in and out of the gates.”

“Living at the palace? I thought-”

“I know. I’ve sent to Jerril for your things.” She took in his borrowed costume, and her smile widened. “Though I don’t know why I bothered. My guess is Milo will provide you with an entirely new wardrobe, since your own is so atrocious.”

Cammon felt a certain excitement-What an honor! Commanded to serve at the will of the king!-and a certain disquiet. What if he failed, what if no one liked him, what if he embarrassed himself and the royalty he was set to serve? And what would Jerril and Lynnette do-and Areel-without him there? For he completed many of the harder physical chores, and his sunny disposition cheered their bleaker days-he didn’t have to be a reader to know that, they had each told him so. They viewed him as a sort of favored nephew or grandson. “Can I go back some days?” he said. “Just to visit?”

Senneth’s face showed a good deal of comprehension. “Of course. You won’t be a prisoner here in the palace. And Jerril and the others will get along just fine without you. Why, you were gone for months last year, traveling around the country with me . How do you think they managed then?”

He grinned and ducked his head. “I just wanted-it seemed-”

She ruffled his hair again. “You’ve been abandoned so many times yourself that you hate to abandon anyone else,” she said, though he had never told her that, not in so many words. “I know. But this time, trust me, Cam, it’s all right. Now, come on. I’m supposed to take you to say hello to the princess.”

CAMMONsaw the princess and straightaway stopped worrying about anybody else.

Senneth ushered him into a room he had never seen before, much smaller than most of the grand salons that made up the palace. It was on the second floor, tucked behind a stairwell and overlooking the back part of the compound, the walled gardens and lightly wooded acres. There 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.”

THEYconferred 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 throne!”

Senneth shook her head. “I can think of nothing, at this moment, more likely to cause discord in the realm. Already Halchon and Rayson believe Brassenthwaite is too powerful, and such a marriage would probably convince a few other Houses to join their cause. No, we need to wed her someplace where the alliance will do us most good.”

“Coravann, perhaps,” Valri said. “Heffel Coravann has a son who is about Amalie’s age.”

Senneth nodded. “I have been thinking a good deal about Ryne Coravann. Heffel wants to remain neutral in this war-if there is a war-but a wedding with royalty would most definitely swing him to our side. And Coravann is a strategic ally. So close to the Lirrenlands, on good terms with both Gisseltess and Nocklyn, and yet not such a powerful House that the marlords would rise up in protest.”