Chapter
THEY CAMPED TWO NIGHTS.
On the third day, the air began to thin and cool, the sky above deepening to mountain blue, pines eating up the deciduous trees.
The flat white scars of roads ducked in and out of view, growing as numerous as the silver streams and steel rivers.
More rooftops appeared. Twisted fingers of smoke broke from chimneys and groped at them as they neared one of the few true urban centers in the Lands.
Though she was burrowed deep against Kaelan for warmth, they had spoken only in glancing words.
When they landed, she ate, stretched, and ran through her training sets. She slept mostly while they were in the air, so that she could complete her exercises. Her body ached, both from the long hours spent flying and the exertion of training.
Flor would sit by, either barking orders or asking Honey to contact various long-dead family members.
Most of the time, the nymph claimed not to be able to reach them, but some she did. The information, the memories, that Honey relayed was convincing. And yet, for some reason, Magda remained leery.
Hero stayed a fixture on Honey’s shoulder. Magda didn’t ask him to return to her. If he preferred the nymph’s company, she couldn’t blame him. Her mood certainly hadn’t been growing brighter as they neared the Spire.
Damion and Kaelan joined her in training when they didn’t sleep. She took turns knocking Kaelan on his ass and then getting knocked on her own ass by Damion.
The knit of his brow told her he was worried by her slow reflexes and failure to consistently defeat him.
Not that she failed utterly, but her body seemed reticent to return to the honed and deadly fast switchblade it had once been.
Bit by bit though, she could feel it happening, the surface hardening.
After everything she’d been through since her return, the woman she’d become in exile was sinking away, like someone drowning under thickening ice.
Early on the afternoon of the third day, they landed on a ridge not far from a road, where two rounded white wicker-wood carriages waited. The horses skittered, held by wide-eyed Pixie drivers. Meer stood atop one of the carriages, arms folding and unfolding with an air of impatience.
Magda and Kaelan dismounted. She pressed her forehead against Gur, allowing her old soft self one last moment so her affection and thanks could flow into the semargl. He purred, nuzzling into her armor.
“I don’t think I’ll ever enjoy walking again,” Flor said, brushing back her side-swept bangs.
She hadn’t taken her hair as short as Magda’s, which was shaved close to the scalp at the back.
Still, the sharp straight locks brushing the matriarch’s chin would prove a shock at court, which had been entirely the point of course.
Magda just hoped it would work as Flor intended.
Magda approached Anqa charily as Damion and Honey slid off of the great gold-eyed bird. She pressed her hand gently to the sleek feathers of the roc’s neck and offered her gratitude.
An odd flurry of images spilled from Anqa’s mind into hers, but all Magda could gather from them was that the roc would come again, if needed.
Magda thanked her again and backed away.
Anqa squawked, wings spreading wide, and then turned and took flight. Gur lingered a moment longer, gaze roving over each of them before he, too, flew off.
“The Rae, the Prince, and I will ride in this coach,” Flor said. “Damion, you and Honey will ride behind.”
“Do I have to ride inside?” Damion said, frowning. “I hate carriages.”
“Yes, you do,” Flor said.
He deflated.
“I’m sorry we cannot all ride together,” Flor said to Honey, “but it would be inappropriate for a Rae to arrive within the Spire’s walls with her attendants in the same carriage.”
From the corner of her eye, Magda caught the drivers gaping openly at them. She almost laughed.
Seven years ago, if she’d seen a Rae with short hair flying on a lion-semargl with a Prince thought dead, his eccentric short-haired mother, a scarred warrior, and a misty-eyed nymph wearing a rat on her shoulder, she probably would’ve gawked too.
But mostly it reminded her that every moment from this time forward, she would be watched.
Drawing back her shoulders, she recomposed her face into an impassive mask.
“Mother Flor, please,” she said, stepping aside as the driver opened the carriage door.
The interior was airy with an abundance of windows. The seats were lined with gray satin.
“You honor me, Mistress,” Flor said with a bow.
She held out her hand for Kaelan to assist her.
It took him a moment to reach out and offer his hand.
Magda bit back a grimace. His single hesitation had already put a chip in this tenuous facade.
If anyone thought that the judgments of the servants wouldn’t have an impact upon the nobles, then they knew nothing of how gossip spread at court.
“Oh dear, my sweet boy,” Flor said with effortless grace as she took his hand. “I can see your long years in exile have left your finer sensibilities in a terrible muddle.”
He pursed his lips, but said nothing.
“Worry not,” she said as she alit. “Everyone will be so delighted at your miraculous return, I’m sure they’ll all forgive your brutish human-like manners.”
At the word human the driver’s eyes rounded.
In the Pixie world, humans offered a kind of taboo thrill.
Flor, as removed as she’d been from the rest of society all these years, had been quite genius in bringing up humans, associating that intrigue with Kaelan’s faux pas.
Magda had a feeling the word human would be mentioned at every turn no matter where she and Kaelan went.
She ignored Kaelan’s hand as she stepped into the carriage on her own and settled beside Flor in the forward-facing seat.
Kaelan slid across from them.
The driver shut the door. The carriage bounced as he mounted at the front.
Overflowing food baskets appeared in each of their laps. Then Meer perched on the seat next to Kaelan, nose in the air.
“Do you require anything more?” she asked, swaying only slightly as the carriage rocked.
“No, thank you,” Magda said.
Meer bowed and vanished.
“Don’t trust that one,” Flor said, then popped a grape into her mouth.
Not that Magda trusted Meer, but since the brownie was harboring one of Magda’s most dangerous secrets, she had to ask, “Any particular reason?”
“She works for my brother,” Flor said. “Rahul is supporting us, at the moment, but if the campaign does not go well, he will fall to the favor of Lavana, to save himself.”
“The moment we arrive, I’ll send word to the Spire, requesting an audience.”
“Of course,” Flor said.
“Have you arranged the presentation to the elders?”
“Yes. This evening.”
“Good. What about him?”
“I am sitting right here, you know,” Kaelan said.
“It will be difficult,” Flor acknowledged. “Cae was effusive and gregarious, charming. You have been too brooding.”
He set aside the basket, not eating. “People change.”
“Yes, I suppose they do,” Flor said, turning her gaze out the window.
“I’ll do my best,” he said.
“I know you will,” Flor said with a tight smile. “Just remember the story we rehearsed.”
“I remember.”
“And I’ve seeded it so that it is known Magda has gifted you with a nymph attendant,” Flor said. “I’ve discussed everything with Honey. She knows her part. She will be able to help you, with Cae speaking through her.”
“That’s quite unusual,” Magda said.
“Well, we are an unusual bunch, aren’t we?
” Flor said. “The story will be that after you saved Honey from the empusa and her other Prince was killed, she offered herself in service to you. And you saw fit to gift the nymph’s service to my son.
She will be as much a draw as he will, seeing as she was in love with this mysterious Prince who was killed by the King. ”
“I’m not sure it was a good idea to let that story out,” Magda said.
“No, it was a brilliant one. Risky, yes. But the key to successful deception is to mix in as much of the truth as possible. Lavana was very much aware of Kaelan, and she knew that you loved a nymph, didn’t she?”
Kaelan let out a heavy breath, which seemed to be a yes.
“So it was imperative that we explained Honey’s presence in those terms. And I am correct in thinking she would also be aware that it was the King’s forces who killed Kaelan?”
“Yes,” Magda said, putting aside her own basket.
“I respect that you have your reasons for not wanting me to know how or why this was, but I had to craft a story that would make sense of Honey in those terms . . . terms Lavana would believe.”
“You’re right,” Magda said, ignoring Flor’s implication that she wished to know more. “Of course.”
“But it would be best, since you have not claimed him, that you two remain close at all times,” Flor said, not bothering to hide her disapproval. “You will be sharing a room at the house.”
Kaelan’s jaw twitched. “Is that necessary?”
“Yes,” Flor said. “I have . . . obtained a letter in the Silver Star’s handwriting confirming Cae’s false death, his safety in exile, and her wishes that you not lay claim to a Prince until after you are Radiant.”
“The last part is well known,” she said, not adding, because it’s true. “Although I never knew why.”
Flor sat back, her lips pursing. “For those who knew your mother well, they understood why she made such a request. Once you are Radiant, the families will be eager for you to take their Princes. You will have your pick.”
“Even though she went through all that trouble to hide Cae for me all of these years?” Magda challenged.
“The facts and the fiction will be a delicate negotiation,” Flor admitted.
“I have a better story,” she said. “Tell people that I am in love with someone else.”
Flor and Kaelan stared at her.
“Who?” Flor asked.
“Riker, Lavana’s Prince,” she said. “We were together in exile. Tell people I want him back. And I have every intention of taking him.”
“Oh?” Flor asked. “Is that why—?”