Moth and Spark (27 page)

Tam wished Elyn would be quiet. Sooner or later she was going to say something Tam didn’t want to hear. It wouldn’t even necessarily be about Corin; Elyn was the sort of person who delighted in recounting the embarrassments of others.

“Who?” asked Alina.

“My friend didn’t know her. And of course he couldn’t describe her, he’s a man. Apparently Corin is quite smitten. My friend said he kissed her right there.”

Tam expected to see anger or jealousy or maybe even hurt on Alina’s face. Instead, the expression that flickered across before it was covered by unconcern was fear. It puzzled her so much that she did not even have to suppress her own reaction to Elyn’s statement.

She stood up as Elyn said, “They didn’t come together, though.” The room was getting stuffy with four people in it. She opened the window a few inches wider to let in more breeze, warm though it was, and leaned out briefly before returning to her seat.

Elyn said, “Are you going to be exclusive to your friend, Alina, or will you dance with others?”

“That will depend on who asks me,” Alina answered with her too-bright smile. “And yourself?”

“Oh goodness, what’s the fun in dancing with just one man?” She sighed. “The best dancers aren’t always the best-looking. I may have to toss a coin. What about you, Tam? Are you going to try to keep your secret by dancing with a dozen different men?”

“That’s an excellent idea,” Tam said. “Will you line them up for me?”

Elyn and Jenet both laughed, and Jenet said, “Which dress will you wear?”

“The blue one, with the seed pearl trim,” she answered, thankful for an innocuous topic. She reached for her drink.

“Rose is much more fashionable this year,” remarked Alina. “As a color, not in hair.” Tam nearly knocked over the cup with suppressing her laughter.

“Rose doesn’t match my eyes,” she said. She saw a page at the door. The boy could not have picked a better time.

His message was for Jenet. She turned color as she read it. “He wants a private interview after the first dance,” she said when she was done.

“Lucky girl,” Elyn said, embracing her.

They were still exclaiming about it when a soldier appeared at the door. He was dressed in a formal uniform, not the usual plain attire of the men on duty. Everyone went unnaturally silent. Tam hoped fervently that he would not single her out. But if he was not bringing a message from Corin for her, it could only be something worse.

He said, “My ladies, His Majesty commands you to the Great Hall at once to hear him speak.” He bowed and departed before any of them replied.

Tam did not join in the rush of speculation that followed. She knew what it was about.
Vielle has fallen.
The war was going to be declared. She picked up her book.

“Oh,” said Alina, “that’s yours. Are commoners allowed to take things out now? I hadn’t heard.”

Jenet and Elyn went silent. Tam said, “You’re hanging by a thread, Alina, don’t push me any further. Thank you for the hospitality, Jenet.” She stalked out.

Tam was still seething when she reached the Great Hall. It was already full and getting fuller. Not just with courtiers, either—there were servants and clerks and various officials packed together in the back. The doors were flung wide-open, letting air move. There seemed to be guards everywhere. The ceiling shone with iridescence that moved across the surface like oil on water. The floor and lower part of the walls were a handsome pale marble, the upper part of the walls pearly gold paint. Banners, bright and forceful, hung from the balcony. On the floor underneath it the eagle crest of the royal house had been worked in tile. It was not a room for casual chitchat. She wondered how old it was.

She did not see anyone she knew, although there were faces she recognized. On the balcony above a number of soldiers were standing very alertly. Bron was among them. He raised his hand ever so slightly, gesturing her toward the nearest door, then stepped back out of her sight. She went to the door and stood as inconspicuously out of the way as possible, not too close to the guards. Cina came in from the opposite side but was talking to someone and did not appear to see Tam.

A few minutes later a page came by and quickly, without lingering, put a message into her hand. It was as discreet as it could be, she supposed.

The message was not in Corin’s hand, but the words were his.
You needn’t stay. But if you do, come to the robing room afterward.
It had an obviously hasty seal on it. In case a guard wanted to send her away, no doubt. Or keep her from leaving.

She looked around and saw that Cina had spotted her. She acknowledged
her with a small nod. Too many people stood between them for either to make her way easily to the other. But it meant she could not very well walk out. Cina would want to talk to her afterward, she would have to explain about that too. Word had to have made it to Cina by now that Tam was seeing somebody. Well, perhaps it didn’t matter if she found out here instead of at the ball. It would save a scene. She sighed too audibly.

People were talking to one another in low voices; the seriousness of what was happening had permeated them. She was near the front, only a few rows of people ahead of her, and the presence of the guards at the door had thinned the space. No one wanted to be close to an armed man. She could see the balcony perfectly.

Bron caught her eye again. He was, she realized, observing the people near her very acutely. Guarding her. She would have liked to draw back into the crowd and watch with ordinary anonymity, but she was quite certain she was not supposed to. It could hardly be done inconspicuously now. She was standing close to the coronation portrait of Aram; when she looked at it this time, she saw innocence. Corin looked much more like the Aram she had met than he did like that young man who had been crowned.

At last, when Tam was beginning to seriously consider taking Corin’s offer and leaving regardless of what Cina thought, a deep bell was gonged. Feet stopped shuffling, voices quieted. Tam did not want to see what came next, to watch Corin be formal and powerful. Oh, you fool, she thought to herself.

The ritual caught her anyway. She stared upward as everyone else did when the Lord Marshal was announced, the prince, the queen, the king. Talia stayed back. Tam heard someone mutter, “Not an engagement, then.” The queen wore a formal and ornate dark red gown. Both Corin and his father were robed but Corin was bareheaded. Aram was not. Instead of the heavily jeweled helmetlike affair that was a state crown he wore something simpler, closer to a coronet. It conveyed the gravity of the situation quite as well.

Tam let Aram’s words roll over her without listening much. She heard enough to realize he spoke only of the Sarians with not a word about the Emperor. It was an omission that she understood, since Corin had told her that Hadon almost certainly wanted him dead, but it made
her tense. She did not need Corin to know that without Mycene they were doomed. Nor could she be the only one there to realize that.
What about Hadon?
would be the first question on the lips of many. She was glad she would not have to answer that. It was not the only thing he was not saying, either.

Most people were listening with quiet respect. Not much fear, which was a good thing. The glow and movement of light on the ceiling shifted and responded to Aram’s voice. She wondered if it was something he could control at will, choosing when to shadow his words and when to bare them to brightness. The people around her did not seem at all aware of it.

She compared this king with the one she had seen two nights ago. He was more untouchable here; she would have controlled her imp and never dared to say the things she did if he had been like this then. If she had seen him like this first, she might have controlled her imp better around Corin as well. It was a far cry from the man who had given her a cup of tea and clapped her on the back. She shivered a little, realizing the extent of that familiarity. And trust.

Twice her eyes met Corin’s. Neither of them held it. Both times she was intensely aware that he wanted her with him. He seemed as calm and poised as his father, sober but confident of victory. It was very well acted. The second time she saw the flame and shadow around him, the dragon shape, heat and light. They had possession of him. She shifted uneasily.

Pain seized her, sharp and sudden, as though her whole body had been ripped open, and then was gone, lightning-fast. Sweat stood out on her brow, and her hands had gone white. Her mouth tasted metallic, like blood. She wiped her forehead and watched the color returning to her fingers. In some other world there had been an arrow, or an earthquake, or a spell, and the course of events diverged irrevocably from now. Black moths, colored sand. A cold dark thing trying to get out. Wings flapped, claws scratched. Urgency that was not quite panic filled her, and she looked up at Aram, imploring him to finish soon. Their eyes met but he gave no outward sign of having seen her and continued speaking.

When the king ended his gaze swept the room evenly. He turned. It was over.

People were moving around. Cina left through another door. Tam stepped into the corridor and showed the note and seal to a guard. He gave her directions.

Even so, it took her a few minutes and she hoped she was not too late. The guards at the door to the robing room scrutinized both her and the seal much more carefully, and one took the note in while she waited. She decided it was an opportunity to practice looking dignified. The guard returned shortly, gave her back the note, and admitted her.

Corin was waiting. His robe was off, and he looked like himself again. To Tam’s relief, Aram was already gone. Then she saw the queen. Her stomach sank.

Corin held out his hand. Tam was tempted to hit him, but she took his hand instead. He squeezed it, smiled at her, and led her to the queen. She wasn’t just the queen, she was his mother, damn it, it would be impossible to please her.

Now is not the time to fall apart, Tam thought. Corin let go of her and stepped back. When Talia met her eyes, she curtsied and said in a blessedly steady voice, “Your Majesty.”

“Tam Warin,” the queen said. Her eyes were the same shape and color as Corin’s, though her hair was fair. She was a few inches shorter than Tam. She said, in a quite ordinary tone, “I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”

“Oh no,” Tam said, before she could stop herself.

“All of it favorable, I might add.”

“Thank you, my lady.”

“The king is not easily impressed.”

“I would hope he isn’t,” Tam said. Was she never going to learn?

Talia laughed. Then, seriously, she said, “You were in the audience. How was the speech received?”

This was a test. There would be no punishment if she failed, but Corin would be disappointed. She would not look at him for support, she would not. She straightened and said, choosing her words precisely, “I think the danger is well understood, but no one is terrified. But tomorrow, after people have had a chance to think it over and they really see the urgency, there are going to be a lot of questions.”

“About what?”

She remembered going with her father to treat people after fire tore through half a block of houses. The people who were uninjured sat on
the street, staring numbly into the ruins of their homes, their lives forever altered. She said, “Most of them will be the usual questions. Where do we go, what do we do.” She hesitated, gambled. “But then they will start wondering why we are in this alone. And what else is there that they haven’t been told.”

Talia nodded. “If you start to hear enough of those, let us know. Any of us, even Aram.” She looked past Tam to Corin. It was as though they were continuing a conversation they had started earlier. Then she said, “I won’t impose on my son’s patience any longer. But I do hope to speak with you again soon.”

“Whenever you wish, my lady,” Tam said.

“May I give you a piece of advice about the ball tonight?”

“Of course.”

“Drink plenty of water. It will help.” She walked past Tam, said to Corin, “Don’t be late,” and left the room.

As soon as the door was shut, Tam turned on Corin and said, with more irritation than she meant in her voice, “You should have warned me.” It was better than she had expected, but all she could think of was what she should have done.

“If I had warned you, you would have worried.”

Sometimes she hated it when he was right. “Did I pass?”

“Of course you did, love,” he said. “She likes you.”

“How can you tell?”

“She used my father’s name, not his title.” He drew her in and put his arms around her. His body felt good against hers. Passion roused in her, then settled. A faint smell of metal clung to him from the cloth of gold. It made her think of dragons. She wished she and Corin could vanish.

“Corin,” she said, “something happened, or didn’t.”

“What do you mean?” He was plainly thinking of something else.

“It was not here. I don’t know.” She had no words to describe what she had sensed while Aram spoke. There was a badness somewhere. She should not distract him from thinking about the war with her imaginings. “Why didn’t you cancel the ball?”