Sharon Shinn - Reader And Raelynx

Strangely, perhaps, Cammon did not find Ariane frightening at all. He had met her under extraordinary circumstances almost a year ago, when her granddaughter was dying and Ariane would have made any bargain to keep the girl alive. What he had thought at the time was how much he wished someone had loved him enough to go to such lengths to save him. He had been impressed, not so much by her ferocity, but how that ferocity had alchemized to love.

“Don’t let her make you nervous,” Kirra said. “Ariane always orders everyone about. It’s simpler just to do what she says.” She knocked on the door and then smiled in her wicked way. “I’m not staying. Best for you to learn how to handle Ariane on your own.”

But when he took a deep breath and stepped inside the room, he was hopeful, he was excited. And right away, as he faced that strong-willed, broad-faced woman, he knew that she was just as hopeful as he was.

“Cammon,” she said, holding out her hands. “You can’t know how many years I have waited to see my son again.”

She took him in a powerful embrace, this indomitable woman whose force of personality was legendary. And all Cammon could think was how her generosity had reshaped his life, and how easy it would be to love her.

THEYhad been back in Ghosenhall a week when Amalie insisted on leading a procession through the city. Everyone protested, of course-the Riders, the regent, her stepmother-but Amalie was adamant.

“I have been shut up in this palace my whole life,” she said in the gentle voice that covered such determination. “I will not cower inside these walls while I am queen. I will go among my people so that they know me and I know them.”

Since it was clear that she would walk out the gates with or without an entourage, Tayse and Romar and Senneth hastily arranged an escort of soldiers and sorcerers. Cammon, in his new role as her betrothed, was allowed to walk beside her through the streets, holding her left hand in his-and seeking through the crowd for anyone filled with ill intent. Six Riders ringed her round; Donnal and Kirra circled overhead. Senneth, who had no fire to summon if fire was called for, strode at the head of the column, waving the royal flag.

The raelynx pranced along on Amalie’s right, gazing about with undisguised interest. No amount of protest had been able to convince her that he should be left behind. Indeed, he had become her official mascot. The Riders wore their new sashes sporting the traditional gold lion interspersed with the raelynx rampant. The flag that Senneth carried contained lions in two quadrants, raelynxes in the opposite corners.

Cammon thought it actually would be a good thing if the raelynx were to accompany Amalie on all her public appearances. The creature had offered ample proof that it would fight to protect her, and certainly its presence would cause any would-be attacker to think twice about getting too close. As long as it didn’t eat any innocent spectators, Cammon thought, he was happy to have the beast along. So far, it was proving very well behaved.

Unlike the day they had returned from battle, the streets were crowded with well-wishers, waving and cheering. So many flowers had been ripped from the gardens and flung to the cobblestones before Amalie’s feet that Cammon had to think there wasn’t a single blossom left in any garden. The day was gorgeous, sunny and warm, and beneath that perfect sky, Amalie seemed to glow and shimmer. Or maybe, thought Cammon, it was the affection pouring out from the gathered crowds that brightened her hair, turned her pale skin lustrous. Certainly she seemed to grow more beautiful every time a young woman tossed lilacs at her feet, every time a little girl blew her an untidy kiss.

But here and there, Cammon could sense darker pockets of hostility and unease. He wasn’t sure if the words were being spoken aloud or if he merely heard them in his head. Mystic. Sorceress. Not to be trusted…

They had been following a slow route for almost an hour before true trouble cropped up. Cammon sensed it first, a surge of discontent emanating from a group of young noblemen gathered on the street corner, and he silently directed Tayse’s attention toward them. Cammon didn’t recognize them, but their colors gave them away. One wore the pearl-encrusted vest of Fortunalt; another had the Storian topaz pinned to his hat. Two others wore sashes embroidered with a black hawk clutching a red flower. Men of Gisseltess.

From all four, Cammon picked up grief and bewilderment as much as anger and fear. They had probably believed passionately in their marlords, had accepted without question the doctrine of the Pale Mother. Now their idols had been overturned. Who were they to believe now? How could anyone know the right path to follow?

One of the Gisseltess men stepped into the street, partly blocking Senneth’s progress. She had her free hand on her sword, but she didn’t draw it. “And you’re to be queen now?” the young lord called out to Amalie, his voice hoarse. “You’re to rule over us all?”

Amalie came to a halt and peered past the Riders to see him. “Yes. I will take the throne early next year.”

His three friends crowded behind him. Cammon felt Tayse’s impulse to force them away with outright violence, but from Amalie he was picking up a desire for colloquy. Just wait. Hear them out, he thought in Tayse’s direction, and the Rider pulled out his sword but made no move to attack. Beside Amalie, the raelynx fixed its eerie eyes on the speaker and waited.

“Mystic,” the young man said, spitting out the word. Beside him, his friends echoed the word. “ Mystic ,” he said again. “And we’re to have you as our queen?”

Now the rest of the crowd began a troubled muttering. Cammon sensed both confusion and uncertainty from the onlookers. Some of them had no particular dislike for mystics, though the thought of one on the throne did make them uneasy. Many, he thought, were anxious to have Amalie explain away her power-or at least give them reasons they should not fear it.

He squeezed her hand and dropped it. Talk to them , he told her.

She nodded and stepped forward, brushing past Senneth, though the raelynx stayed firmly at her side. “I am a mystic,” she said calmly, addressing the malcontents but raising her voice enough so it could be heard by everyone in the vicinity. “I have the power to draw strength from those around me when I need it most. I believe it is a gift from the Pale Mother herself. I believe all magic flows from the gods-and I believe there are many gods and goddesses that the people of Gillengaria have long forgotten.”

That caused a murmur to ripple through the crowd, full of surprise, dissent-and speculation.

Amalie made a half-turn, spreading her arms as if to envelop every onlooker. “Not only that, I believe all of us have been touched by the gods to some degree,” she said. “Some of you have feared mystics your whole lives, without realizing that you, too, possess a kind of magic.” She pointed at an old woman wrapped in a shawl despite the day’s warmth. “You. What is your special skill? Can you make flowers grow in the hardest ground? Can you ease a child who is coughing in the night? A goddess has blessed you with her own magic.”

She pivoted and pointed at a young man who looked clever and dexterous-street thief, Cammon guessed, though Justin would probably know better than he would. “You. What is your particular talent? Can you steal behind a stranger in utter silence? Can you convince anyone of your sincerity? Can you sing? Can you fight? If you can do any of those things, you have been touched by one of the gods.”

She spun back to face the frowning young lords, still standing on the corner and starting to gape at her. “You-from your clothing I see you are from some of the great Houses of Gillengaria. You’ve witnessed the marlords as they’ve watched and worried over their properties. Have you ever seen a marlord pause for a moment-stop and listen-and seem to be hearing the land speak to him? Don’t you realize that is a kind of magic? Don’t you know that every marlord, every marlady, is a mystic under the protection of a powerful god?”