Sharon Shinn - Reader And Raelynx

“No,” Valri said sharply. “No. A fine and discreet person, I’m sure, but we cannot have outsiders running tame at the palace-or known mystics coming in to tutor the princess! What kind of secret would we have left then?”

This time he agreed with her. “Well, then,” he said. “You’ll just have to make do with the rest of us.”

Amalie gave him a hopeful smile. “And I think, with your help, I will manage very well.”

CAMMONspent the rest of the day and most of the night trying to absorb everything he’d learned. He was essentially useless at the formal dinner that evening, so it was fortunate that no one made any attempt on the king’s life, and he skipped his usual nightly visit to Justin and Ellynor. He didn’t think he could conceal his shock from them, and it was impossible to put Justin off with vague references to “something I’d rather not discuss.”

The secret about Amalie was enormous all on its own, but what it meant about Coralinda Gisseltess might be even more staggering. Did she realize she was a mystic? Had her persecution of them been the most monstrous act of hypocrisy? Or had she truly believed magic was evil, not understanding that the power she wielded came from the very same source?

There was no way to expose Coralinda without exposing the princess, that was certain. Cammon had seen enough instances of violence directed against mystics to blanch at the thought of revealing Amalie’s ability. Yet could this secret truly be kept from more than a few close advisors? Pella had managed the trick-would Amalie be able to do so as well?

Should she?

If a mystic sat on the throne, would the people of Gillengaria begin to lose their fear of magic? Would they set aside their hatred and embrace their strange brethren? Was that idealistic and unrealistic thinking, or was it the only hope the kingdom had?

Cammon rubbed his eyes. Not a decision he was equipped to make. Sweet gods, bring Senneth home soon . Only a day or so away now, he could tell, and moving quickly. She knew he needed her.

He had gone to his room immediately after dinner, so exhausted from the day’s excesses he wanted to go straight to bed. But now, perhaps an hour before midnight, he found himself restless again. Pacing his room. Staring out the window at the dark lawns unrolling from the castle walls. Needing to talk to someone.

Needing to talk to Amalie.

As soon as he had the thought, he was filled with an absolute conviction. Amalie wanted to talk with him as well. He put his head to one side, thinking. He could hardly go to her room in the middle of the night. Where might they safely rendezvous? Even as he was considering the options, he realized Amalie was on the move. She was gliding along the hallways, stepping down a set of stairs. Heading away from the parlor where she spent most of her days.

He smiled. She was on her way to the kitchens. Even a princess might plead hunger in the middle of the night, if someone saw her ghosting through the halls. Even a serving man. No great scandal if they were to be discovered talking before the enormous banked fire of the central ovens, munching on leftover bread.

He threw his jacket back on and hurried downstairs to meet her.

He was ahead of her by a minute, long enough to make sure no one was lurking in the larder. He had stirred up the fire, fetched plates and glasses from the drying rack, and set out bread and cheese and a pitcher of water, before she slipped through the heavy door. She was dressed in a long white nightdress covered with an embroidered white robe, and her strawberry-blond hair was unbound down her back. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and she put a finger to her lips as she settled onto the stool beside him. He nodded. He had already sensed the presence of the butler making one last circuit of the great hallway before going off to seek his own bed.

They cut off thick slices of bread and layered them with equally thick slices of cheese, eating for a while in companionable silence. Then, “He’s gone,” Cammon said, keeping his voice low.

“I’m glad you were willing to come meet me,” she said straightaway. “I couldn’t bear to have you angry at me all night. I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep.”

He poured glasses of water for both of them. “It’s not my place to be angry at the things you tell and don’t tell. I should be apologizing for behaving badly. But I’m still-it’s a lot to try to understand all at once.”

“You think I have a terrible kind of magic,” she said.

He was astonished and turned to stare at her by the rosy light of the half-dead fire. “What? What kind of thing is that to say?”

She nodded. “You do! Magic that steals from other people. What sort of power is that? It’s mean and spiteful, that’s what.”

He took a bite of his bread and chewed it, considering. “Is that what you think?” he said at last.

She hunched her shoulders and looked down at her plate. “Maybe. It doesn’t seem very pretty-like Senneth’s magic, or Kirra’s. It just seems-I don’t want to be a thief! I don’t want people to be afraid of me! People already keep their distance from me because I’m the princess. If they think I’ll take things from them, just borrow their power whenever I want to-well, no one will be comfortable with me. No one will want to be near me.” She hesitated and then, in a small voice, added, “Particularly mystics.”

It was a reasonable fear, he thought. And yet…“To my knowledge, no mystics have ever been allowed to choose their magic,” Cammon replied. “They were endowed with it, or forced to accept it, no matter what they wanted. So mystics will understand this is not a power you sought out-merely a power you need to comprehend.”

“I think they will hate me,” Amalie said, still in that soft voice. “As they hate Coralinda Gisseltess. As they hate the Pale Mother. I have been touched by the wrong god.”

Cammon cut another slice of bread. “As to that, you might talk to Ellynor-once you’ve decided it’s safe to discuss secrets. She lived at Lumanen Convent for a year and worshipped the Pale Mother along with the other novices. I think she’s rather fond of the Silver Lady, to tell you the truth. She might be able to tell you some tales that will make you a little happier to fall under her protection.”

Amalie glanced over at him, her face showing the first stirrings of hope. “Do you think so? Because right now I don’t think I could ever honor the same goddess that Coralinda Gisseltess loves.”

He wasn’t sure how to phrase this. “Have you been-do you think-have you found yourself hating yourself a little because of the magic in your blood?”

She nodded vigorously. “Yes! Ever since I realized how strong my own magic was. And today I hate it even more because I realize Coralinda Gisseltess possesses the same kind of power. If she’s evil-”

“It doesn’t necessarily follow that you are,” he said swiftly. “Though I have to say it makes everything more complicated.”

She brooded a moment. “I wanted to tell you,” she said at last. “Valri was so afraid you would find out, but I wanted to tell you. It’s just been-it’s so heavy. Knowing that there is something deep in your heart that will make people despise you, waiting for the day when they learn it-the day they turn away from you in horror. I-I wanted you to find out.” She gave him one fleeting glance and looked away again. “I did foolish things, to give you clues.”

“The raelynx.”

She nodded. “I had to know. What face you would show me when you discovered the truth.”

“I’m sorry it was such a shocked face today, then,” he said, instantly full of remorse. “But-it hurt -and there was so much to understand, all at once-”