The Cedna (Tales of Blood & Light Book 2) (29 page)

I shook myself. How could I have forgotten that Lady Daria had a son? Onatos’s son. “She’s sending her son to you. That seems hopeful. It might mean she’s entertaining the idea of an alliance.”

Sterling set the letter down. “I doubt it. When I wrote, I only sent an open invitation for her to visit us. Jaasir Amar is one of Costas Galatien’s best friends—though I heard they had a falling out at the Brokering. We cannot trust him.”

Jaasir Amar
. Yes, that had been his name. I remembered the baby I’d seen through Laith’s spyhole. Onatos’s only legitimate child. He’d been a pale, sickly thing who’d looked more like his mother than his father. Laith, on the other hand, had been a charming little man. What had happened to him? Probably nothing good, not after Onatos had left him. Laith had told me that Lady Daria abused him. Thinking about what might have happened to the boy made me angry with Onatos all over again. Why did he not come to me now that he was free?

W
e had only
a day to spare before Jaasir’s arrival. Servants scurried to ready the mansion for the guests. His message relayed that he’d be bringing a small entourage, including his personal mage and his wife, Lujayn. It fell to me to arrange the meals and the entertainments. I had no experience in such matters, but the Ricknagels had a good staff, so I left most of the details in their capable hands.

Sterling and I dressed to the hilt to make an impression. Amar, Sterling informed me, was one of Lethemia’s richest provinces. Sterling glittered in blue and silver with a black lace mourning overdress in honor of her mother and sister. I wore emerald green swathed in an intricate array of translucent black silk.

We awaited our guests in the grand foyer. I had sent a housemaid into the city to find an armful of hothouse black roses for the entry. They looked appropriate to our situation: stark and gloomy and dangerous.

The Amar party had to pass through a veritable gauntlet of soldiers and servants to make it into the house. That too sent a message, one I hoped was not too direct. We trusted no one.

“The Lord Jaasir Amar and his wife, Lujayn,” announced the Ricknagel’s doorman, bowing.

The pale young man who strode through the door looked nothing like Onatos except for his eyes, which were the same deep blue pools in which I had so often drowned with pleasure. He was not handsome, and neither large nor strong, but whip-thin, his movements fastidious and lethally precise.

“Lady Sterling,” he said, his voice as edgy as a blade. “I am so pleased to meet you. And so sorry to hear of your losses. Please, accept the condolences of House Amar.” He walked towards her and held out his hands.

Sterling let him take her hands; he kissed the top of each. I winced. Sterling had a weakness for such attention. She’d likely fall in love with Jaasir Amar because he’d kissed her hands. Spirits, if he possessed even one quarter the charm of his father, she’d be enraptured by the end of dinner.

“Welcome to my home,” Sterling murmured.

Jaasir stepped back and waved imperiously. That haughty gesture was meant for his wife, summoning her forward as though she were a trained pet.

“My wife, Lujayn.” Lujayn Arania was a lovely woman, taller than Jaasir by a few fingers and clad in a daring scarlet dress and a feathered black cloak. She wore a tight expression as she curtsied to Sterling in the customary fashion.

“Lady Sterling, thank you for your hospitality.”

“It is my pleasure,” Sterling said. “Let my servants show you to your rooms. You can refresh yourselves. There will be an early dinner. Please, make yourselves at home.”

J
aasir
Amar had brought
his mage to dinner. The lord and his black-clad servant stood together, backs to Sterling and me. I only pegged the mage because magic wafted from him in palpable waves that woke my sleepy senses. I scrambled to set another place at the table. We had expected only Jaasir and Lujayn.

When the mage turned to find his seat and I saw his face, I repressed my gasp by biting my cheek. Sharp cheekbones, eyes as blue as the Parting Sea, hair as black as onyx. So like Onatos, but one step different everywhere. The last time I had seen Onatos, he had been magically disguised, and so I flushed with sudden confusion. Had Onatos finally found his way to me as he had promised? I tried to meet his eyes to discern if this was another magical mask he wore.

“This is my mage, Laith,” Jaasir told Sterling. My hopes vanished. Sheer terror replaced them. Laith might recognize me. “He will join our councils this evening.”

I retracted against the wall and turned my face at an angle to the mage while Sterling tensed at the brazen reference to “councils.” She had mentioned no such meetings. By all appearances the Amars should think this a social visit.

“Welcome, Mage Laith,” Sterling said, covering her surprise. My own heart was thundering against my ribcage. “We are happy to have you dine with us. My aunt, Siomar, is a magitrix, you know, and I am curious about magic.”

“I shall seek to answer all your questions, my lady,” Laith replied with a small bow. Like Onatos before his entanglement with Malvyna, Laith projected perfect ease; he was at home in his own skin. And what a fine skin it was! The charming boy had grown into a handsome man. Built on a larger scale than Onatos, Laith cast a masculine aura that was forceful and attractive—even to me, a woman nearly old enough to be his mother.

When Laith turned to me, I caught my breath. His eyes were exactly those of my lover: mercurial and passionate, fringed with lush lashes any woman would kill to possess.

I stared, and Laith returned the look for so long that I knew he’d recognized me.

Most Lethemians believed I’d kidnapped his father. Did he as well? His eyes darkened. I had little doubt that those shadows signified a deep hatred, but he easily dropped his gaze and displayed avid interest in the conversation between Jaasir and Sterling.

“We traveled the entire northern shore of Lysandra,” Jaasir was saying. “I had only ever been to An-Ariaan. The Lysandrene coast is lovely.”

“I have always wanted to visit Lysandra,” Sterling remarked, soaking in the young man’s attention. Her insecurities left her too vulnerable to male notice.

“Have you traveled much, Lady Sterling?” Laith asked.

“I went to Entila and then Galantia for the Marriage Brokering, and every summer we go to Lake Tashriga.”

“Travel is essential,” Lujayn spoke up. “It opens the mind and gives you experience of the world.” She threw her shining brown hair over her shoulder in a maneuver I’d seen Malvyna Entila use many times.

“What did you like best about Lysandra?” Sterling asked Lujayn.

“Oh, the shopping! They have the most beautiful silks, shot through with gold and silver. And the flowers! They don’t even need hothouses; it’s so warm.”

Sterling and Lujayn launched into a long discussion about fabric. Irritation crept over Jaasir’s face.

By the time we went to the entertaining parlor, I sympathized with Jaasir. I was bored of ribbons, colors, and the best tailors in Shankar. We had more important topics to discuss, but the only strategy yet organized involved dresses; Lujayn and Sterling had planned a shopping trip for the following day.

The two women only fell silent when the lutist Sterling had hired to provide after-dinner entertainment played. During the performance a footman whispered in my ear, “There is news.”

As I hurried from out of the parlor with the servant, Laith’s gaze followed me. No one else took any notice.

“What is it?” I asked the footman once we were out of earshot.

“Lord Ricknagel will return within the hour.”

I exhaled. Perfect! Ricknagel would know how to handle the Amarians.

“Please notify me when he arrives,” I said. “I must speak with him immediately in private.”

I went back to the entertaining parlor, where Lujayn and Sterling were insisting on more musical entertainment. Good. If they remained distracted until Ricknagel returned, we could hand over all delicate discussions of an alliance to him.

After the music Sterling picked Laith’s brain about magic. “What about the Temple of Amarite?” she asked. “I have never understood why the mages need it. What happens there?”

“Oh my,” Lujayn said in a stage whisper.

Laith examined Sterling as if gauging her strength. “All magic costs,” he said. “There are rules of magic just as there are rules of physics. Mages cannot endlessly perform spells. It drains us. The Temple of Amarite is where we restore what has been drained. Acolytes of Amarite offer us their … care and energy … so that we may be strong again.”

Jaasir added, “And the acolytes serve the mages at their own expense.”

I did not know exactly what they meant. Did the Lethemian mages use these acolytes the way the Elders had used our people to feed magic? Blood? But the Elders had said Lethemians never paid for their magic—they’d said Ganteans had to pay
for
them. Onatos had been horrified when I had once explained my scars. He’d said blood wasn’t required.

“Yes, but what is it the acolytes do?” Sterling persisted.

Jaasir laughed. Lujayn pursed her lips. Laith frowned. No one was forthcoming.

I hoped Sterling would press.

She did not need to press. Eventually, Laith answered. “The way that mages replenish themselves is through an erotic act. In the joining of the flesh, there is a joining of the aetherlight that glows inside every living thing. When a mage does his magic, he drains his own aetherlight to give his spell life and power. To renew himself, he binds to a Source, who is usually an acolyte of the Temple of Amarite. He takes her aetherlight into himself, thus restoring the balance within him.”

I sat, absorbing the shock.
Lethemians paid for magic using sexual congress?
I could grasp the method, it even made a kind of sense, but still I recoiled. To make the private pleasure between a man and a woman such an exchange—it went against nature. Bloodletting paid for magic without any illusions. Magic was made from pain and life. To twist pleasure into pain was wrong.

“What happens to the acolytes then?” Sterling asked. “If the mages take aetherlight from them, aren’t they then drained in turn?”

“Acolytes of Amarite are not known for their long lives. But those who are called into that service have a special talent. As mages are born, so are Sources. They naturally have great reserves of aetherlight, and they are able to restore their light better than you or I would be. Yes, they die sooner, but it is not such a heavy price to pay for the life of pleasure that they lead,” Jaasir said.

His words made me seethe. Those poor Sources! Did they end up as my mother had, drained and delirious?

I had spent my life in a state of exhaustion, drained by sustaining magic. That was the cost. Curse all those who thought the magic justified the means, as if we who kept the balance were no more than coinage for their fancies. I doubted the worth in magic weighed against the cost we paid to feed it.

The footman tugged at my arm, startling me back to the present. Xander Ricknagel had returned.

I raced up the stairs to Ricknagel’s salon. Kyro opened the door.

“Serafina,” Ricknagel said, rising from behind his desk. “You wanted to see me? What is it; what is the matter?”

I barely knew where to begin. “Did you hear—”

“About Stesi?” he said grimly. “Of course. Kyro received an aether-sending as we traveled. I’m going to kill that privileged little shit, Costas Galatien. Slowly.”

“We have guests,” I told him, eager to get to the matter at hand. “Lord Amar, his wife, and the Amarian mage, Laith.”

“Gods in Amaranth!” Ricknagel exclaimed. “What are they doing here?”

“We—that is, Sterling and I—invited them.”

“Why, in the name of Amassis?”

“We thought—you need allies. You especially need allies strong in magic. Amar fields six mages, which is more than any House besides the Galatiens.”

“I cannot believe they are here to make an alliance,” he said.

“Not in so many words. On the surface it is a social visit. We have spoken about little except fashion and magic theory. But you could suggest—”

“Kyro, please get me fresh attire,” Ricknagel said.

Kyro left.

“What were you planning to do if I didn’t show up?” Ricknagel demanded.

“Sterling could do what needed to be done.”

“Sterling is a child!”

I had been only fifteen years old when I began paying for the world’s magic. “She could have done it, but I am glad you have returned. We are out of our depth,” I admitted.

Kyro returned bearing clothes. I faced away while Xander changed. Both Kyro and I followed a few steps behind as Xander marched to the entertaining salon.