Sharon Shinn - Reader And Raelynx

Valri looked unconvinced. “That might have been extraordinary luck, but you can’t be sure it was a goddess at work.”

Ellynor nodded. “It was. She is the giver of extreme and unexpected gifts. I know her hand was on me that night.”

“And now I like her even better ,” Amalie said. “So what must I do? To show her honor?”

“She likes moonstones.”

Amalie glanced at Cammon and he rolled his eyes. “It seems a little disruptive when I put one on.”

“You might carry one with you and only let it touch your skin when you want a stronger connection with the goddess,” Ellynor suggested.

“That’s a good idea. What else should I do?”

Ellynor smiled. “She likes music. I’ll teach you the prayers that we would offer up every night. You could almost feel her preening when the songs reached her ears.”

“I don’t sing very well.”

“That doesn’t matter. And she likes it when you are mindful. When you know where she is in the sky, when she is scheduled to rise, what phase she will show. She is vain, it’s true, but she’s also generous. Pay attention to her, and she will most definitely pay attention to you.”

“I wouldn’t have patience for such a goddess,” Valri said.

“No, but you don’t have to,” Cammon said. “You follow the Dark Watcher, and she’s served you pretty well. I think maybe all of us are drawn to different gods for different reasons. Maybe that’s why there are so many gods.”

Valri looked skeptical. “Then why are there so many forgotten gods?”

“Because people got careless and arrogant,” Ellynor said. “They started to think that they were doing everything themselves. They didn’t realize that the gods still watched over them, even though they stopped honoring the gods.”

“Maybe that’s why the gods created mystics,” Amalie said. “To remind us that they’re powerful-and that they can interfere in our lives.”

“If, indeed, the gods created mystics,” Valri said. “I think that’s just a theory of Senneth’s.”

Cammon shrugged. “It makes sense,” he said. “It seems to explain the range of magic.”

“The only goddess I am certain of is the Black Mother,” Valri said.

“I know there is at least one more,” Ellynor said softly. “And sometimes she’s powerful, and sometimes she’s lonely, and she is always beautiful.” She smiled at the princess. “And I believe she likes you. And I believe you will be safe in her hands.”

AMALIEcheered up considerably after that conference. Cammon could see Valri visibly restraining her desire to scoff when Amalie practiced the prayers that Ellynor taught her. Valri would never be particularly open-minded about the deities, but even she could tell that Amalie needed to make peace with her goddess, and so she held her tongue.

You stayed up last night and sang that to the moon , Cammon thought when Amalie completed one of the prettier songs.

She smiled and answered indirectly, because Valri was sitting right there. “That’s my favorite one, I think,” she said. “Ellynor says it’s most beautiful when there is a whole chorus of singers, although some of the prayers are meant to be sung by only a few voices.”

“Well, I’m not sure we should be inviting acolytes of the Pale Mother to take up residence here and harmonize with you,” Valri said, with a touch of humor. “And surely we should not be sending you to the Lumanen Convent to pray with all the Daughters.”

Amalie answered, but Cammon lost the thread of the conversation. For the past few minutes, he had been feeling dense with uneasiness, and now suddenly the sensation intensified. Donnal had seen something that distressed him-Donnal was in motion to Kirra’s side. A few moments later he felt Kirra’s sharp concern knife through him, and then Senneth was on guard, then Tayse.

A hand touched his arm and he almost shivered. Amalie. “Cammon? Are you all right? Cammon?”

He must look as if he had fallen into a trance. His sensibilities were divided; part of him felt like he was hundreds of miles away, viewing a large, crowded hall from four perspectives. Part of him was sitting in this cozy room, with Amalie’s grave eyes on him and Valri’s face a study in worry. It was hard to speak coherently. “Something’s wrong. In Danalustrous,” he said. “I can’t tell what.”

“Something’s happened to Senneth?” Valri said sharply.

“Or one of the others?” Amalie added.

“No. They’re all just-worried-afraid-grim.” He couldn’t find the right words. “Tayse is preparing for battle.”

“Battle? In Danalustrous? At a wedding ?” Valri exclaimed.

“I can’t explain it. There’s a mood that settles over him when he thinks he’s going to have to fight. It’s very distinct.” Tayse was preparing for combat, but Kirra was the one who was most upset. Danalustrous, Danalustrous, Danalustrous! “They’re under siege,” he said abruptly. “Someone’s attacking the Hall.”

Valri jumped to her feet. “I’ll tell Baryn.”

So, after all, he and Amalie had a moment alone, but it wasn’t likely to do them any good. Cammon couldn’t draw his attention away from his distant friends, couldn’t relax or focus on anything else while they were in danger. He could feel Kirra and Donnal taking the shapes of great winged predators and diving into the fray from above, gouging out eyes, slashing open faces. His arm was heavy with Tayse’s sword, relentless and unfaltering. His hands burned with the heat of Senneth’s fire.

“Cammon.” That was Amalie’s voice, curiously disembodied, strangely distant. “Cammon, I’m worried about you. You seem to have disappeared. Should I send for Justin? Or Jerril?”

He managed to shake his head. “No, I’ll be all right. When Justin was hurt, I felt like a knife had gone through my heart, and it took me a couple of hours to recover. But this is-there are four of them, all at once-there’s so much emotion I can’t push it back. But I think it’ll be all right. I think it’ll fade. I’ll be fine.”

In truth, he wasn’t so certain he would be fine. He had never been buffeted by so many intense emotions simultaneously. Jerril would certainly tell him he needed to pull back, to throw his mental shields up, to conserve his own strength. But he couldn’t. Not while they were so passionately engaged, not while they were in such danger. They were all, in their ways, splendid fighters, but any man could be felled on a battlefield. Any mystic could be cut down by a sword.

Amalie stood up, drawing her hand away. He felt an instant sense of loss that momentarily jerked his attention back to this room, and he saw her hurrying over to her bookcase of treasures. But then Senneth called forth an incredible burst of power and he was right back in Danalustrous, behind a roaring, impregnable wall of flame. Gods, he could feel the backlash of her power; she could set the entire country on fire.

Amalie circled his wrist with her hand, and for a moment the world went black.

No fire. No battlefield. No parlor. Just a blank and empty spasm of existence.

He gasped for air and reality shifted back into place. He was in the pretty rose-and-cream parlor, sitting in an upholstered chair, facing a window that looked out over the sunny lawns of the palace. Amalie was beside him, her earnest face creased with worry. Danalustrous and his four friends who were defending it were still there at the edge of his mind, but in a muted and shadowy fashion. He could monitor the fight while still existing in his true environment.

Her hand was still closed over his wrist, and he could feel the sharp prickle of magic in her touch. “What did you do?” he whispered.