Citadel of the Sky (Thrones of the Firstborn Book 1) (12 page)

There was a chuckle from the Justiciar’s Table behind her, though she wasn’t sure who it was from. She’d have to find out from Lisette later. She studied the monk, if monk he was. The substance in his pot didn’t have much of an odor. She looked at the color on his fingers and then at the man’s vivid blue eyes, his crazed smile. But a crazed smile didn’t mean much; if she avoided crazed smiles, she’d be avoiding half her family. She had to trust her instincts and to her instincts, he just didn’t feel dangerous.

She lowered her head and let him dab some of it on her forehead. It was cold. He was drawing a shape. She tried to look like she was being generous and kind to a mad, old man, rather than embarrassed, even if she wasn’t sure what was going on. After he was done, he picked up his bundle and stroked his hand along the coverings. Then, still crouched down, presented it to Tiana, lifting it higher than his bowed head.

Tiana lifted the bundle from his hands. It was lighter than she expected and she found, as she pulled the wrappings away, that the weight was mostly from the fabric. She pulled away two layers of cloth, found a third layer and glanced up uneasily to see the monk’s intent smile. She repressed a nervous laugh. Whatever it was, it was long and slender—a cane or a staff?

The fourth covering, of silk, slipped away, and she stared at gleaming, razor-sharp metal peeking out from beneath the fifth and final hide wrapping. Then, carefully, she adjusted her grip downward until she found the bulge of the quillon and below that, the handle. Then, gripping that with both hands, she let the rest of the wrapping fall away from the sword.

The blade was wider than the swords used by the Guard, but it was heavily etched and engraved with short lines and swirling designs. A deep groove paralleled the edge of the blade. Closer to the hilt, the blade widened even further, with frightening, fang-like protrusions. The rough interior of the lower part of the blade was stained a reddish black and an ebony stone was set directly in the metal above the handle.

The marking on her forehead tingled. Then, it burned. She clapped one hand over it, turning an embarrassing shriek into a less embarrassing whimper. Her forehead was cool to the touch, and she couldn’t feel the paint at all.

As she traced her fingers over the place where the mark had been drawn, the monk rose to his feet and lightly touched the blade with his hands, directing it down on the level, so it pointed at him. He smiled at Tiana, holding the blade down as she frowned at him. This time the smile wasn’t mad at all, but calm and encouraging.

Softly, he said, “He will be cruel, but you are strong.”

Then he stepped forward and pushed himself onto the point of the sword, pulling himself forward with bleeding hands until the blade emerged from his back. Falling to his knees, he reached up to brush Tiana’s shocked face with crimson fingers.

The stained interior of the blade turned from black to scarlet. This time, she failed to control her scream.

L
isette tried to suggest
, in her delicate Regent way, that Tiana miss the reception that evening. She’d had quite a shock, after all. But Tiana wasn’t having any of that, not after her first day at court, not after today. She’d
earned
the reception. Twice in one week, her hands were covered in blood, but so what? She was the Blood; did they expect something else?

The Chancellor tried to suggest, in his gruff Chancellor way, that he take the sword and put it someplace safe. It would only further disturb her if it was around. Tiana wasn’t having any of that, either. She put it on the mantle over her fireplace, where some people put trophies.

Then she went to write a letter to her mother, detailing all the pleasant parts of her week. It was very short, but it was traditional. When she was done, she put the letter into the same box she’d been putting letters to her mother in for the last eight years. It was a big box, with three neat stacks of paper. But it didn’t bring her the usual release from anxiety when she was done.

She drifted around her rooms, frowning over Lisette’s shoulder at the notes she was copying. She picked up the copy of the Royal Pendant she’d found in the catacombs, toyed with it, dropped it again. Kiar said it was nothing but an eidolon shadow, and Tiana needed something real to distract her. Something real and decidedly unmysterious. She scowled at the gown she’d picked out yesterday. It displeased her.

“I want something red, Lisette,” she announced. “A red dress.”

Lisette looked at her. “Red.”

“That’s what I said!”

Lisette said, “I’ll see what I can find.” She blotted her writing and went to the dressing room.

Tiana called, “I’m fine, you know. And everybody needs to know I’m fine. The Chancellor works so hard on these receptions and nobody ever appreciates them.” She worked on unbraiding her hair. “We should do something nice with my hair. Something that shows I take the receptions very seriously.”

Lisette emerged with a crimson dress Tiana had never worn before. It flared at the hips and had long, tight sleeves. “Did you outgrow this?”

She stood up and let Lisette measure her. “I’m quite looking forward to being engaged, actually. And married. Do you think anyone will want to marry me now?” Before Lisette could answer, she laughed. “I’m being silly.”

“I understand it’s quite nice for the right people, but not for everyone.” Lisette observed, and helped her put the dress on. The vows of a Regent forbade her to marry and have a family of her own.

“Yes, but the Blood has to reproduce,” Tiana protested. The Chancellor was very concerned by the subject. “Everyone’s been so stubborn about it lately.” She shook her head sadly. “It’s so unfair. I can’t carry on the line alone, Lisette!”

Lisette patted her shoulder and then pushed her to a chair, so she could begin working on Tiana’s hair.

“Do you think we have to find a husband for Shanasee before anybody else can wed?” Shanasee had been engaged once long ago, when Tiana was still in the nursery. Tiana had never quite worked out what had gone wrong; the suitor had run away, Shanasee had changed her mind, or one of her uncles had meddled.

“Lord of Love! Or do you think it’s Yithiere? He’s got a grown daughter! And no one would want him!”

Lisette laughed. “It’s not a curse. Seandri was engaged once, after all.”

“Yes, but he never got
married.
That was a mess.” Right after Tiana started attending the receptions, Seandri liked a Kaximon girl enough that the Chancellor felt comfortable moving forward with an engagement.

Seandri didn’t mind but unflappable Jerya
did.
She found the Kaximon girl utterly repulsive, and overnight she became moody and snappish. Iriss provided no explanations, and Lisette and Tiana both worried Jerya would lash out at the next reception. And then, one day, it was all over. The engagement was called off, the Kaximon girl was never again seen at court, and Jerya returned to her old self.

“We all meddle too much,” she said. “With each other. Jerya meddled with Seandri’s engagement, and Uncle Pell or whoever with Shanasee’s. Why do we do that?”

Lisette said, “You know the saying: ‘Only the Blood can understand the Blood.’ In the phantasmagory, you’ve got a connection to each other that nobody else can share. And who, but the Blood, understands the eidolons?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t
go away
if we get married. We don’t lose that connection. Look at Jant.” Jant was Shanasee’s father and Tiana’s great-uncle. “He’s been married for forty years, and he’s still closer to us than his wife. There’s no
reason
to meddle.”

Lisette shrugged, smiling faintly, and adjusted a ribbon. “People are complicated in ways that don’t always make sense. Would you like to go for a walk before the reception?”

Tiana said, “Something terrible would happen to ruin my hair. I’ll just look out the window while you get ready.”

T
here was
a five sided table in the center of the Gala Room, where the reception was held. On the table were four platters of cookies, in four different colors. Against the wall was another table, with four matching bowls filled with tiny wrapped packages. Inside each cookie was a tiny scroll containing instructions. It was traditional that if you ate a cookie, you followed the instructions it contained.

Lisette insisted they arrive late, as she always did, so that the reception was already in progress. There was the usual mix of strangers and familiar faces; the Chancellor had perennial favorites he liked to invite, and any member of a Regent’s immediate family had a standing invitation. A string ensemble was in the corner, playing atmospheric music.

Jerya was standing in front of the cookie table, staring at it, chewing on her lip. Her dress was silver with gold accents, and nicer than what she usually wore to the receptions. When Tiana and Lisette joined her at the table, she said, “What color should I pick?”

Tiana said, “Iriss is going to kill you when she wakes up and sees what you’ve done to your lips the last few days.”

Lisette said, “It depends on what you’re looking for. Red’s the most dramatic. Yellow is fun. Blue is subdued. Green is a mix.”

“Which one has the duets?”

Tiana said promptly, “Green.”

Jerya picked up a blue cookie and tentatively took a bite. The pastry crumbled against her lips, and she pulled out a scroll with her teeth. Then she ate the rest of the cookie and read the scroll aloud. “’Turn a quarter-turn to your left, and ask for a childhood memory of the person you find there.’” She turned her head.

“Oh, it’s Yevonne’s mother. That’s a good start.” Yevonne, Regent to their youngest cousin, was born a commoner, and her mother often took advantage of the receptions to work on furthering connections for her family. It wasn’t at all
usual
for the Blood to choose a commoner child as a Regent. But Gisen had firmly rejected all the noble children presented to her and found Yevonne instead. It was the Regency’s policy to work with what they had, rather than what they wished they had.

Before she could walk away, Tiana said, “Jerya, why are you suddenly interested in the cookie game?”

Jerya paused and turned back. “We wed for political gains as well as children, Tiana. We all grew up here, together, because of Benjen, but in previous generations, some of our cousins would have grown up in other noble houses, with other family names. Nearly strangers, meeting again at a reception like this and our Blood drawing us together. We should be keeping the country together, not hiding in a fortress. If I’m to be a good Queen, I can’t avoid parties forever.” She smiled absently and went to speak with Yevonne’s mother.

The Chancellor joined them, while Tiana wondered if Jerya was prepared to let Seandri wed as well. “Ah, Your Highness. I see Cathay hasn’t joined us yet. Would you mind eating this cookie, while facing in this direction?” He proffered a yellow cookie. “It’s lemon, your favorite.”

Tiana rolled her eyes. “That’s cheating, Your Excellency.”

“Cathay cheats shamelessly, my dear. The vermin thank him, but he makes my job much harder.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Tiana took the cookie and opened it expertly, rescuing the scroll before popping the two halves in her mouth. “’To your right is a lady or gentleman dreaming of a dance to the gentle strains of Ja Nei Terrel. Grant their wish.’”

Tiana looked to her right. A few yards away, a young man and a young woman stood together. Siblings, Tiana thought. He was reasonably attractive, with thick chestnut hair, striking green eyes, and a lovely embroidered green shirt. “Who is it?”

“His name is Brandon Lanadon, from Hypana. He has excellent court manners and a strong sense of family.”

Tiana felt a brush of irritation at what the Chancellor considered valuable in her future husband and then wondered what
she
considered valuable. Didn’t she cherish a strong sense of family, after the decision her mother made?

She strolled over to the string ensemble and asked them to play Ja Nei Terrel, the Candy Waltz, then wandered over to Brandon and his sister and smiled at them. “May I borrow your brother, Your Ladyship? I’ve instructions here to dance with him.” She offered Brandon the scroll.

The sister curtseyed, even as her eyes widened. Brandon took her hand, smiling broadly, and they began the simple steps of the dance.

“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Your Serene Highness. I didn’t anticipate it would be quite so soon. I only arrived in Lor Seleni last week.”

He must be nervous, Tiana decided. “Was your journey pleasant?” she inquired.

They twirled in unison, and when they came together again, he said, “It was wretchedly hot, actually.” And then he fell silent, staring at her. Tiana found she was little motivated to do the work to encourage him.

After another twirl, he said, “You do resemble your mother. I see it in the nose and the set of your eyes.”

Tiana missed a step. “You know my mother?”

He sounded more assured as he said, “Yes, of course. She’s a cousin. The Queen’s Court is quite elegant.”

Tiana back stepped, as the dance dictated, and stopped. “How pleasant for you. Unfortunately, I’ve just realized we’re not accepting new friends from Hypana at this time.” Suddenly shaking with nerves, she curtsied to end the dance and fled back to Lisette and the Chancellor.

“I hate you,” she said to the Chancellor.

He was surprised. “Whatever for? You’ve enjoyed conversation with those connected to the Queen before. Was he rude?”

Tiana frowned. It was true, she had. But they were just daydreams of another life. Today, those daydreams felt shallow and cheap. And she was angry at her mother, without quite knowing why. The realization made her dizzy, made her ache for the comfort of the phantasmagory.

She squeezed her eyes shut and blindly reached for a cookie. It was a red one. She broke it open. “Give a RED TREASURE to the person who arrived after you.” She scowled. “That’s you, Lisette.”

“Do over?” Lisette suggested.

Tiana shook her head and marched over to the treasure table, snatched a red package from its bowl, and returned to hand it to Lisette. “This isn’t as much fun without Kiar and Iriss,” she complained.

Lisette opened the box. Inside was a tiny, iron brooch, wrought like a gauntlet. She made a face and pinned it carefully to her sleeve. “I hate the iron prizes.”

Yevonne and Gisen appeared at Lisette’s elbow, both grinning. Among the family, they were known as the ‘little girls,’ but recently they’d encountered puberty and puberty was winning. They were still smaller than Tiana, though, and she hoped that would remain true.

Yevonne said, “You have to sing a duet with me, Tiana. It says “Mirian Riding,” but Gisen wants us to sing “Elohin’s Younger Sister” instead. Do you remember it?”

Tiana embraced the chance to lift her plummeting mood. “Of course I do, but what’s the point if you’re not going to follow the instructions?”

Gisen poked Tiana, and Yevonne’s smile became her ‘I’m a stupid commoner brat’ grin. “’Cause it’s music and Gisen said so, obviously.”

Tiana resisted a smile. “Oh, very well then.” She and Yevonne moved to the head of the room to serenade the reception, Gisen trailing behind them. Gisen didn’t talk much, but she had a phenomenal gift for music, and Yevonne’s voice was one of her pet projects. And it was true that “Elohin’s Younger Sister” sounded better with their voices than “Mirian Riding.” It was pure joy singing with Yevonne in public; suddenly Tiana felt a rush of anticipation for Antecession and the musical performance that came with it.

She felt so good when they were done that even seeing the Chancellor pass a cookie to a young man didn’t ruin her mood. He was slender, not very tall, with dark hair and an expressive mouth. When he approached her, she even remembered his name from previous receptions.

“Perre, right? From the Shell Coast?” He had a slip of paper and a blue package.

“That I am, Your Highness. I’m to deliver this prize to a lady who shares an interest with me.”

Tiana smiled, looking up at him. “And what interest is that?”

He smiled back. “Do you know Tel-Lor-Moon?” He had a beautiful smile.

“It’s one of my favorite plays.” Tiana watched Jerya stroll past with an older man.

“Well then, it sounds like you win.” He offered her the package. “I played Kestrel for a fortnight, in a performance back home. Have you seen any other of Jennet Damarcy’s plays?”

Delighted, Tiana said, “You act? On stage? That’s wonderful.” She opened the package. Inside was a smoky quartz charm, shaped like a closed book. She beamed and added it to her reception bracelet. When she looked up, Perre was watching her in some amusement, and she recalled he’d asked her a question. “Oh, no, I haven’t. I’ve read them, but they’re didn’t engage me as much.”

“They’re dense,” he said agreeably. “I’ve heard tales that you’re involved with a show in the Small-light district. Is it true? Which one?”

“Yes, I am! But I’m not on stage. It’s new, it’s by—”

“I hate to interrupt,” said Cathay, her cousin, from behind Tiana, “but I have an instruction here that requires Her Highness.” Irritation surged through Tiana again, and her head started to distantly ache. But Perre just smiled.