Lady Catriona pushed her plate away. “So they could be anyone.”
“The Vesh are a good place to start,” Alastair said. “Our enemy has a bounty out on my heartstone. Aliza’s too. It seems that they need them for some reason, and the sooner we can find out why, the sooner we can end this.”
Edmund bent his head close to his wyvern and said a few words in Vernish. Brysney let out a long breath and looked at Anjey, but her attention was elsewhere, eyes fixed on the edge of the table as she idly stroked the leather plates covering her stomach.
“All right. How can we help?” he asked.
“Besides tracking the Vesh? We need to find Wydrick,” Alastair said. “Do you know how many Riders are in the city right now?”
“Several dozen, I think,” Brysney said.
“Master Doublegray at the Sword and Crown would know for sure,” Edmund said. “There are a few companies of the Free Regiments camped down at the barracks too. I can spend some time with them, see what they know.”
“Good,” Alastair said, “but be careful. Wydrick has Ranger connections; he may have spies in the regiment.”
Edmund nodded but said nothing further on the topic as the servants came in to clear away our dishes, turning conversation instead to a tale of his wyvern Whiteheart’s encounter with a mischievous gale of pixies in the Royal Park. When he finished, Brysney asked Alastair to describe once more his confrontation with the Green Lady and the loss of his old sword, much to the interest of the other Daireds. Anjey plucked my sleeve under the table.
“Let’s leave them to it,” she said in my ear. “If Cedric gets them started on weapons, they’ll go on for hours. Besides, you and I need to catch up.”
I was only too happy to leave recollections of Lake Meera at the table. We excused ourselves and took our cups of sweet kaf to the nearest balcony. Cloaks pulled tight against the salty sting of the night air, we leaned against the balustrade and sipped our drinks. For a long minute neither of us said anything, enjoying the vista of the city spread out below us in twinkling torchlight and the cold glow of the moon.
“You’re frightened,” Anjey said suddenly. “Aren’t you?”
I released my breath slowly, watching the white clouds spiral away from me into nothingness. “Yes.”
“We can stop this. Whatever’s coming, you won’t be facing it alone.” She rested her hand on mine. “We’re Riders now, you and me. Riders-in-training, at least.”
I looked up at her sharply. There was no trace of irony in her expression, only an honest sympathy that struck me to my core. She really believes that. Her transformation—the hair, the armor, the talk of we—it wasn’t merely for show. I saw it in an instant, and wondered that I hadn’t seen it at once. Anjey had embraced her husband’s world beyond the titles and external trappings, never mind her low birth or lack of training. Brysney’s name had already erased the former, and if the new muscles I’d felt were any indication, she was in the process of rapidly erasing the latter. My eyes fell to the knife at her hip. I thought of its twin, now sitting sheathed and unused in a corner of my wardrobe, and remembered my clumsy attempts at wielding it in the Old Wilds. Shame, slow at first, then building with the force of an ocean wave, washed over me. Anjey had not wasted months wallowing in her nakla identity. She’d abandoned it altogether.
“I suppose so.” Groping for a non-Rider topic, I said the first thing that came to mind. “Do you still like your villa?”
She smiled. “Very much. You and Dair—sorry, Alastair—must come for dinner, and soon! We won’t be there for much longer.”
“What? Why not?”
“Cedric has talked of visiting Selkie’s Keep this summer. That’s where he grew up, you know.” She gave me a sidelong look. “We thought we might like to raise our child there.”
The word sent a thrill through me, jarring as a wasp’s sting. I stared at her. She laughed at my expression, a sweet, musical laugh that warmed me even as sorrow plunged icy needles through my heart.
“Aye, Aliza. Sorry I didn’t write sooner, but I wanted to tell you in person.” She clasped my hands. “Congratulations, dearest. Come next summer you’re going to be an aunt.”
Chapter 14
A Brief History of Spices
I didn’t tell her. Instead I swallowed my grief, smiled, and cried what I hoped would pass as tears of joy. In some ways, they were. I was happy for her and Brysney. That her news tore open the newly healed wound inside me and set it bleeding afresh was none of her concern. My pain was my own business. I tied the threadbare bandage of indifference around my heart and pretended not to notice.
For the rest of the evening I played the part of the overjoyed sister, offering suggestions on how best to break the news to Mama, giving my opinion on names, and praying in silence to Thell not to take this joy from my sister as the gods had taken it from me.
Anjey and Brysney left late, taking their good spirits with them. Alastair and I bid the others goodnight and returned to our chambers.
“Your sister told you, didn’t she?” he asked once we were alone.
I nodded.
“Did you tell her?”
“No. And I’m not going to.”
He sat heavily on the edge of the bed and let out a sigh, soft but weighted down with feeling. “I wanted to tell Cedric, but I . . . couldn’t.”
“Then don’t.”
“It might help.”
“Nothing will help,” I said flatly. “Alastair, I don’t want to talk about this right now.”
“Aliza—”
“I said I don’t want to talk about it.” I undressed and curled on my side of the mattress with my arms around my knees, hugging them to my chest like a shield against sorrow.
“Khera?” The bed sank beneath Alastair as he joined me. He rested one hand on my shoulder, his touch warming my cold skin through my shift. I didn’t move, didn’t say anything. After a moment he rose again. I heard the scrape and click of the balcony door closing, and the chill in the room subsided. He returned to bed and lay down with his back to mine.
Just as well, I thought as sleep closed over me. This way we could not see each other cry.
I woke to the smell of the sea and a note from Alastair on the counterpane. He and his aunt were paying a visit to the palace before their meeting with the Riders at noon, though he doubted even they would be able to get an audience with the king on such short notice. I sent up a hollow prayer for favor to any god who was listening. A face-to-face conversation with King Harrold, unlikely as it was, would save us all a great deal of trouble. If he believes us. I folded the note and tucked it into my pocket as I dressed.
The pain of the previous night had faded in the daylight, or perhaps had simply withdrawn into whatever room in my heart had walls strong enough to hold it, but regardless, I felt much less inclined to tears. There was work to be done, and I had a scolding to finish.
The day was bright and surprisingly warm for being so close to Saint Ellia’s Day. The ivy trembled in a strong sea breeze as I descended into the courtyard.
“Tobble?” I called.