Shadowborn (Light & Shadow, Book 1) (34 page)

I drew in my own breath, sharply, when the
Dowager Queen swept down the stairs, arms open to Miriel, smiling
the same welcoming smile as poisonous adder.

“
Oh, my dear, you are
exquisite!” she exclaimed. “And the very image of your father. What
was his name…no, don’t tell me, darling. Let me look at you.” She
tapped her mouth with her fan, and I was overcome with foreboding.
I cast a glance over at the Duke, and saw his face in the impassive
expression he could maintain so well.

“
Edward!” the Queen
exclaimed. “The eldest brother, wasn’t it? That’s it, yes. Oh, but
you have his eyes.”

“
Your Grace—“ The whispers
started, and Miriel’s color rose. I watched, anguished and—to my
surprise—angry. The scandal of Miriel’s mother had been forgotten,
and now the Queen had found it and dragged it out into the open
once more. On the dais, I saw Guy de la Marque smiling, and I knew
that he had been complicit; he and Isra, together, had set
themselves to find something that would discredit
Miriel.

“
Oh, how silly of me. I was
wrong, wasn’t I? Was it Henry, then? Such a charmer, that man. All
the ladies of the court were in love with him.” Miriel
swallowed.

“
Roger, Your
Grace.”

“
Roger! Wrong twice, how
embarrassing.” The Queen fluttered her fan over her cheeks, as if
she were blushing. Her eyes bored into Miriel’s. “Well, have a
lovely banquet, my dear.”

“
It looks like we were
wrong,” Temar said softly, at my shoulder. I jumped and looked over
at him, and he gave a grim smile. “The boy isn’t so subtle as we
thought.”

“
And?” I did not bother to
mention that I had never doubted Miriel. I was watching her as she
stepped back to take her place with the other women. She was
struggling to regain her composure, but her head was up and her
spine straight; it would take more than a single slur to make her
leave the field of battle. I saw her eyes narrowed slightly; the
Queen had made an enemy this night.

“
The game changes again,”
Temar said. “Cheers.” He handed me a mug of wine, and took a deep
gulp from his own.

“
You’re drunk,” I accused
him.

“
Not very.” He looked over
at the Duke, and when I saw his strange, lost expression, I
remembered just how young Temar was. “I’m still quicker with my
knives than any man here.”

“
Go look to the Duke,” I
admonished him, and I took his mug. “They’re going to dance now. We
have to watch this.” Grown ups, I thought, as I watched him make
his way back to the Duke’s side, were very strange. And Temar
looked sad when he was drunk. I tossed the wine out on the floor
and gave the cups to a serving girl, then resumed my post at one of
the pillars.

The King danced first with Elizabeth Cessor,
and I could see further muttered bets from the gentlemen’s table.
Henry Cessor looked on, well-pleased that his daughter had been
singled out; he did not notice how the King’s eyes strayed over
Elizabeth’s shoulder. Elizabeth did not notice, either, she was
flushed and laughing by the end of the dance, and she simpered at
the King’s bow to her.

He managed one more dance—leading out poor,
shy Maeve of Orleans, who blushed scarlet at his attention—before
he could bear it no longer. I saw the murmurs from the crowd, the
craning heads, as he led Miriel out. She held her head high, her
fingertips just barely resting on his hand, and he looked at her as
if she were an illusion that might fade away at any moment.

It was one of the dances that they were to
have learned that day—a sprightly country dance, with kicking and
clapping, but they danced it as elegantly as a pavane, Miriel’s
tiny feet kicking up in graceful arcs, their eyes solemn on each
other’s faces even when they stopped to clap. They looked as if
they were holding their breath, both of them, and the courtiers
around them fell silent to watch.

They were a strange pair, her dark curls and
his light brown braid, her blue eyes dark and his eyes a warm
brown. Despite his illness, he was as tall as any man in the
banquet hall, and Miriel did not even reaching his shoulder. But
they danced as if they were made for each other. Miriel made a show
of looking away from him at the start of the dance, but when she
finally looked into his eyes, she did not look away until the music
stopped.

I wondered, unbidden, if she wished that she
was staring into Wilhelm’s eyes. Since she had caught the King’s
eye, Miriel had not once looked to the young men’s table. She did
not meet their eyes, she was a girl carved from ice. This act of
overwhelming love was too well-done to be without a grain of truth,
I thought—and was it the King’s kindness that she loved, or was it
Wilhelm’s quick mind?

As the music drew to a close, courtiers
burst into applause, and Miriel looked around at them as if she had
quite forgotten they were there. She blushed and turned to curtsy
to the King, and he bowed to her, drawing her up to say something I
could not make out; his lips barely moved. Without even a pause, he
turned and offered his hand to Marie de la Marque, and Miriel once
more moved to the edge of the dance floor.

I met Temar’s eyes across
the crowd, and gave a small, triumphant nod, and he nodded back,
one eyebrow raised.
What did he
say?
he mouthed at me, and I
shrugged.
I’ll ask
, I mouthed back, and he nodded. From Miriel’s small,
self-satisfied smile, however, I was fairly sure that I knew, and I
was also sure—my stomach flopped—that there was going to be more
sneaking around, and more lies. By the end of the next dance, I had
already started practicing protestations of innocence in my
head.

For the time being, I settled back to watch
Miriel enchant the court. I cast a look, half-worried and
half-amused, at Isra, and saw that she was far from enchanted. She
had settled back in her throne and was looking about the court as
if she would banish every girl who stood between Marie de la Marque
and the King.

When I saw a shadow behind Isra’s throne, I
nearly cried out, thinking that the Duke was correct and there were
assassins ready to strike. Then I saw that it was Guy de la Marque,
accompanied by the Head Priest. They both bent close to her ear for
a whispered conversation, and the three of them looked first to
Marie, confident and lovely in her white gown, and then over to
Miriel, who was being drawn into the formation for a circle dance.
They looked at her coldly, and, with an odd, dizzy feeling, I
realized that the Duke had been correct all along: there were
people at this court who would not blink at the thought of killing
a fourteen-year-old girl.

And all of them, it seemed, were the Duke’s
enemies.

We returned to bed late that night, and
Miriel was too quiet, too smug. I had been given no opening to
speak to her about the King’s words, for she had not deigned to
respond to any of my opening gambits. But, I reasoned, there was
only one thing that could have her looking so pleased with
herself.

And I was right. Sometime after midnight
that night, the bed creaked, and my eyes snapped open. I remained
motionless, barely breathing, and then I heard the rustle of
blankets from Miriel’s bed. Her maidservant was snoring,
undisturbed, and I heard the whisper of Miriel’s gown on the floor,
the faint sound of her palm on the post of the bed, and the creak
of floorboards. I gave a silent prayer of thanks that it was not an
assassin, and I turned my head very quietly, and saw her
silhouetted in the dim light. She was tying a robe over her
nightgown.

I did not say anything, I only sat up, and
she looked over at me sharply. Just as carefully as she had been,
mindful of the maid, I levered myself out of my cot and began to
pull on my clothes. Miriel stood watching me, and when I went to
the door and opened it for her, she went through without a word. We
passed through her privy chamber in silence, and then into the
outer room, where the dying fire glowed red.

“
What are you doing?” she
asked, when I went to the door.

“
Going with you,” I said
steadily.

“
You’re to stay here,” she
ordered me. She drew her robe around herself and curled her toes
against the cold floor. Her hair gleamed in the dim
light.

“
You know I can’t do that,”
I said wearily.

“
I won’t have you telling
my uncle where I’ve been!” she whispered fiercely.

“
I won’t, and even if I
would, me staying here won’t help with that,” I retorted. “Anyone
could guess where you’re going.” She wavered. “And I know where he
stations guards,” I added persuasively. “But can’t we just go back
to bed? You’ve been doing so well without this.”

“
Fool,” she said simply.
She slid the deadbolt back and lifted the latch carefully, and I
raised my eyebrows. She moved more quietly than she should know how
to do. She had been watching me. She peered down the hallway, and
then turned back to me. “Tell me where the guards are,” she
ordered.

“
I can’t tell you that. I
really can’t!” I protested, at her glare. “It’s patrols. You see
the first group, and then you need to time it right.”

I could see her warring with herself. “And
you can get me past them without them seeing me?”

“
If you listen to me,” I
said warningly. She nodded, then dropped the latch very quietly and
beckoned me towards her. When I approached, she grabbed my collar
and pulled me close.

“
You won’t tell my uncle I
was ever away from my rooms,” she said fiercely. “If you come with
me now, you have to promise.”

As she needed me to come with her in order
to make her way through the palace unseen, she could hardly dictate
conditions, and what use was a promise when we were surrounded by
people like the Duke? But none of that would help my case, and I
could not take the chance of her being caught—or, worse, being
attacked. And I had no intention of telling the Duke anything.

“
I promise,” I said simply.
“But you had better think of a good reason, in case he finds out
somehow.”

“
Mmm.” She peered down the
hallway again. “Alright, show me.”

Chapter 29

It was not far; Miriel directed me to take
her to the cellars, and so we crept down back stairs to the
kitchen, then down from there. To my surprise, she listened to my
directions, and used taps on my shoulders to direct me instead of
speaking. When I looked over at her, I could see her lips moving;
she was practicing her greetings.

He was there already when we arrived,
sitting on a barrel in one of the wine cellars to our own building.
Over Miriel’s whispered protests, I had insisted on going into the
cellar first, in case this was some sort of trap. I saw a flash of
fear in his eyes before he recognized me, and I bowed deeply. He
raised his eyebrows to see me, but gave me a courteous enough
nod.

I listened carefully, but heard no one else.
He seemed to be alone, and I beckoned Miriel down the stairs. This
seemed like a dream, I thought. I was a peasant girl, but I was
standing only feet away from the King himself. We were children,
but were meeting secretly in the night like spies and
mercenaries.

He swallowed when he saw her. I stepped
aside to let her pass, and they walked up to each other, her
clutching her robe closed at her neck, him watching her like he
still feared she was a dream.

“
You came,” he said
brokenly, and my heart twisted. I wanted nothing more than to look
away. I should not see this. But my eyes were fixed on their
faces.

Miriel smiled.
“
You
came,” she
said, her eyes very bright.

“
I had to see you again.”
He held his hand out and after a moment’s hesitation, she reached
out and put her hand in his. He bowed over it, and then he drew her
over to the barrel where he had been sitting. “I’m afraid there’s
only one seat,” he said. “I could lift you if you
wanted.”

“
I can’t sit while you’re
standing,” Miriel protested. “That’s not right. You’re the King.”
He grimaced, and then he put his hands on her waist and lifted her
onto the barrel. She stared down at him shyly, and he
smiled.

There was an awkward silence. It seemed that
he could find nothing to say, and so it was Miriel who broke their
reverie. She said the words no other girl her age would have
thought to speak:

“
This can only come to
nothing, can’t it?” His head jerked up and he stared at her,
stricken. Miriel’s lips parted, and then she pressed them together
and looked away. Her hands were clasped in her lap, and they
trembled. She took a deep breath. “You were so kind to me, and I
thought…I heard…but I know it could never be.”

“
What could never be?” He
reached out to take her hand. “Please, tell me.” He expected tears,
and he was clearly unprepared for her to turn on him, eyes
blazing.

“
Do you know what it is
like?” Miriel demanded fiercely. “To see what I wish for most
snatched away from my grasp? To know that no matter what I learn,
what I think, none of it will ever matter? I see the troubles in
Heddred, and I have ideas—I can think of ways to solve things, but
no one will listen to me because I am only a child. And when I am a
woman, my uncle will choose a marriage for me, and I will become
nothing. All I have ever wanted was for someone to see
me
, myself.” He stared
at her. He had not expected any of this. I stared, too,
amazed—amazed at her daring, at her instinct, and also at the ring
of truth I heard in her voice. I did not know where the line was,
anymore, between true and false.