Shadowborn (Light & Shadow, Book 1) (19 page)

Only once had she forgotten herself enough
to look for him. She had craned her head up and over to the young
men’s table to see him. Then she had remembered herself, and turned
her head to see if I watched her; I had looked away, as quickly as
I could, but she still suspected that I had seen her indiscretion.
She was not willing to ask outright, and she would never have
thought to ask if I might keep her secret; it would never have
occurred to her. So she watched herself. Now when he came to sit at
the maidens’ table, she was cool and impersonal, she would turn
away from him to speak to the other girls; and yet I could see that
she was always aware of him when he was near her.

For reasons I could not have explained, I
kept her secret. I had never told the Duke of this, not by word and
not by a flicker of my expression. I had taken the time to puzzle
out, while I walked to a meeting with him, that I did not trust him
and I did not like him. And so I learned to prevaricate: he asked
me only what she did? Well, she did not do anything wrong. And
until he thought to ask me the secrets of Miriel’s heart, I would
say confidently that she had shown no favor to any young man. I
could not say why I did not open my mouth and let the words spill
out; he had called me into service for just this purpose, to look
at people and see their hearts and minds. But it was the first
secret I kept, and I kept it for Her.

In the meantime, as I watched her, I
wondered—and I knew the Duke wondered, too—how she would manage
when she came of age to be married. Then, there would be no
childish innocence to hide behind. But for now, she did
brilliantly. She was indeed a perfect courtier, and her
achievements were surpassed only by her seeming modesty.

Unlike the Duke, I began to wonder something
else: how long Miriel could keep going as she was now. Only I and
Anna, her maidservant, knew how draining this was. When Miriel fell
into bed each night, she was asleep as soon as her head touched the
pillow; she had to be shaken awake each morning. Despite her
exhaustion, she would not stop to rest. But how long could that
continue? She drove herself near to collapse, and she did so, I now
realized, out of fear.

Unlike the Duke, who seemed to believe that
Miriel was some sort of porcelain doll, I knew enough to see that
she could never continue this charade forever. How long would it be
until Miriel was so exhausted, so angry, that she no longer cared
what punishment she might receive? What would happen when she no
longer cared enough to play along with the Duke’s plans? What if
she took the reckless notion into her head to follow her own
desires? How long until she decided that even the King’s protection
was not worth as much as a smile from a boy she might truly
love?

I watched her warily, but she had never,
since those first few days, wavered in her focus. When I had
brought back the card tricks to her, she had insisted on playing
until she had each play and trick and wile down perfectly, until
she could fool even me. We stayed up, that night, until well past
midnight. Miriel’s maidservant had fallen asleep by the time Miriel
felt ready to go to bed, and so she had me help her undress.

A Shadow might be called upon for any task,
Temar had told me—from spying and assassination to being a personal
servant or a clerk. But Miriel had never called upon me at all, and
women’s gowns were utterly foreign to me. The castoff clothes Roine
had been able to procure for me had always been boys’ clothes. I
had been an androgynous child, easy enough to pass off as a serving
lad if I wore my hat down over my ears, and Roine considered it
safer for me to play the part of a boy in any case. When I was
forced to wear dresses, they were simple things: a shapeless sack
like the serving women wore, that tied at the waist and at the
neck.

“
Just unlace it,” Miriel
said, frustration evident in her voice. “It isn’t
difficult.”

“
Maybe for you, it isn’t.”
The laces were done up in ornamental knots, a fashion introduced by
Isra Dulgurokov, and by halfway through the task of unlacing the
gown, I was feeling strongly that the fashion should be replaced by
something simpler. When at last Miriel stepped out of it, I held it
out to her, and she shook her head at me.

“
Hang it up.”

“
Where?” Miriel had whole
wardrobes full of clothes. I only had a little shelf with my spare
uniform folded on it.

“
With the other green
gowns.” Miriel seemed halfway between amused and scornful. “And
fetch me my nightgown. And my robe; I’m cold.” I shot her a look
and went off to find the correct clothing. “Not that nightgown,”
Miriel called. “It’s dowdy.”

“
Then why do you have it?”
Miriel only shrugged elegantly. My patience was fraying fast, but
that hardly mattered to her. Indeed, when at last she was attired
and I made to go to my little bed, Miriel stopped me once
more.

“
Brush my hair,” she said.
I cast a glance, annoyed, at the maidservant who was fast asleep on
the bed, and began to brush at Miriel’s curls. As I brushed,
careful not to split the curls, Miriel studied herself in the
mirror.

“
It should be enough,” she
said. She said it as if to herself, but I knew it was for my
benefit; Miriel kept her thoughts locked inside her head when she
did not want to voice them.

“
What should be?” I asked,
curious despite myself. Miriel met my eyes in the mirror, but she
pretended not to hear me, turning her head this way and that to
look at the sweep of her eyelashes, the pout of her lips, the
elegant lines of her cheekbones. Finally, I snapped, “Who are you
hoping to impress, then? You see no one except the maids and your
tutors, so who is it, the Duke? Your own uncle?”

She shot me a look, anger quickly turning
into derision, veiled under those thick lashes. “There’s always
someone to impress,” she said. “That’s why I’m me, and you’re you.
I never stop thinking for one moment about enchanting men.” She
smiled her most dazzling of smiles. “I could enchant anyone. Maybe
I’ll enchant Temar.”

I swallowed; my hands curled briefly into
fists—it was enough. She smiled again, this time in triumph, and I
cursed myself for a fool that she had already seen that weakness. I
narrowed my eyes.

“
What about Wilhelm
Conradine?” There was a leap of joy in her eyes, and her lips
parted. Then she looked down and her expression went
blank.

“
I don’t know who you
mean,” she said. It was a weak excuse; Miriel knew every lineage
there was to know; she had known Wilhelm’s name before she had come
to court. I struggled between my anger at her jab, and the sense of
guilt at the sadness in her eyes.

“
You’re only a child
anyway,” I said. “No one looks at you like that.”

“
They all do,” Miriel said,
quite unmoved by my spite. “And you should know what I meant.” I
sighed and paused to think.
It should be
enough.
All of a sudden, I remembered the
first conversation we had had, in the dark hallway at the Winter
Castle. And the sadness in her eyes now made sense.

“
For the king,” I said.
Miriel only inclined her head with a little half-smile; the
curious, blank smile I remembered from the Winter Castle. She knew
the correct mannerism, but her eyes were completely blank. Then I
frowned. For the first time, I truly thought about the Duke’s
plans.

“
The King would never marry
you,” I said. Miriel’s smile disappeared abruptly.

“
You don’t know what you’re
talking about.”

“
He wouldn’t,” I insisted.
“He has to marry for advantage, bind in families who are
discontented. Even if you could make him love you, it’s not a
matter of choice for him.”

I had shaken her confidence, and I had
remembered too late what happened to Miriel when she failed the
Duke. She had blanched, but she took refuge in her pride. She stood
up, turned, and pulled me close by the collar of my tunic.

“
I
can
make him love me,” she said. On
the face of it, her confidence was ridiculous—she had never met
him, and I could count on one hand the number of times we had even
laid eyes on him—but this was no false bravado. Miriel was serious,
and when I stared into those beautiful blue eyes, I could believe
her. She shook me, small hands wrapped in the fabric of my shirt.
“He’s the King, he can do whatever he wants. And I can make him
want to marry me. You wait. You’ll see. And you’ll help me.” She
shoved me away from her abruptly. “And never say Wilhelm’s name to
me again.”

Chapter 16

“
What? No.”

“
Just give it here!” Miriel
made a grab for my spare uniform and I pulled it out of her reach.
For a moment, she shoved against me, but I did not yield, and she
knew better than to try to win a fight with me. Her uncle and his
retribution were not here—and in any case, she would have had to
explain why we were fighting in the first place.

She drew herself up to her full height.
”Give it to me,” she said in her best noble voice, and she held out
her hand, palm up.

“
Not until you tell me why
you want it.”

“
You’re my servant!” Miriel
looked ready to stamp her foot, or make a lunge for the uniform. I
held the uniform behind my back, and said a silent thank you to
Temar for teaching me to play keep-away with an object.

“
I’m not giving it to you,”
I said wearily, “until you tell me what this is about.”

We stared at each other in silence, and to
my surprise, she yielded first. “I want to see the palace like you
do.”

At once I saw what she meant. I gripped my
fingers around the clothes. “No. Oh, no.”

“
I won’t get caught,”
Miriel assured me. “Promise. You could teach me to sneak like you
do, I thought, and—”

“
You
will
get caught, and you’ll be
punished.” A thought struck me. “And so will I.”

“
So we both agree that it’s
important for me not to get caught,” Miriel said, far too
reasonably. I looked at her suspiciously, and she spread her hands
out, palm up, and showed me her winning smile. In spite of myself,
I was impressed. I had seen Miriel turn her charm on others, but
never had she used it on me. I was surprised at how trustworthy she
looked now. Still smiling, she lowered her voice a little. “And I’m
sure I wouldn’t get caught,” she said persuasively, “if I only had
help. I’ve watched you, you’re very good at moving quietly. I bet
you could find the best path through any building, and not get
seen.”

For a moment, I flushed with pride. I had
been training on just that. Temar had given me a sword one
night—forbidden for servants—and had me sneak my way through one of
the buildings close to the Palace proper. I was good at finding
paths, and I was very good at not being seen. I was happy that
Miriel acknowledged my skill…and then my sense of misgiving
returned. I did not like the sound of this.

“
You can’t do this,” I said
flatly. “It’s too risky.” I had only been allowed to try after
months of training. Miriel, no matter how sneaky she was, should
not attempt this.

“
No, it isn’t,” Miriel
stepped forward and laid her hand on my arm. Her eyes were
enormous, luminous in the faint light of the bedroom. “All I want
is to go into the great hall at dinner.”

I choked. “All! Is that all? Everyone there
knows your face!”

“
You said yourself that no
one looks past a servant’s clothes.” I sighed. It was true that no
one looked at my face. But my face was not one of the most
beautiful and most recognizable faces in the kingdom. I decided
that I did not feel like saying this aloud, and being reminded of
my own plain looks.

“
It’s too risky,” I
repeated.

“
I want to see them when
I’m not there,” Miriel said. “That’s important, you know it is. I
need to be able to know if they speak of me behind my back. I need
to know what to look for, and I can’t do that properly if I’m
trying to entertain all of them.”

“
I watch them for you,” I
said. It was true. I knew which way the factions could splinter: I
saw which of the well-bred girls genuinely enjoyed Miriel’s
company, and would not have snubbed her, and which of the minor
nobles resented her and would speak against her.

“
You won’t always be
there,” Miriel said. “I need to know, too.” A lie mixed with truth
was always best, Temar told me. I saw that a persuasion mixed with
truth was best as well. It was too risky, and yet…

“
Your uncle will hear that
you were late to dinner,” I said weakly.

That made sense to her. She tilted her head
to the side. “Sometime near the end of the meal, I’ll say I’ve
broken my heel,” she said. “Then I can run and change, and see the
hall, and say when I came back, they had already left for the
maids’ chamber, and that’s why I was gone so long.”

“
What if they stay late
over dinner?”

She shrugged. “I’ll say I went to the maids’
chamber first, thinking they would already be there.” Again, I was
impressed. Temar was attempting to teach me how to lie, but I was
woefully bad at it. I admired Miriel’s quickness of thought, and
consoled myself with a stab of moral superiority: at least I was
honest. Then caution came crashing in once more, and I bit my
lip.