THREE DROPS OF BLOOD (3 page)

The sharp turn of Efrin's head let Mrillis know his guess was correct.

"All the more reason to keep them apart," he said, and looked down over the courtyard
again. "Forgive me, but too many mistakes were made with the previous two generations of the
Nameless One's children. Megassa was taken from her mother within only a few days of her
birth, but she was in Trevissa's womb for ten moons. That is more than enough time to weave
evil enchantments around her, embed them in her very soul, where even you can't find
them."

"Nainan broke free of her father's evil. Belissa resisted the evil that tried to snare her
mind and warp her magic after she married you."

"Yes, and it killed her, in the end." Efrin flinched at the sharp rise in his voice. He got up
from the window and retreated back into the pools of lantern light filling the workroom.

"Trevissa is insane, was insane before she slept with you."

"Sane enough to disguise her features with magic, so I thought she was Belissa. Sane
enough to hide her pregnancy until after Bel died."

"Trevissa cannot hurt you now. And there are those of us who believe her insanity is a
result of fighting the spells that tried to control her."

"You've been trying for six years to make me pity her. I can't and I won't." Efrin
shrugged and dropped into his chair with enough force to make the heavy wooden legs skid
backwards a few fingers' width. He sighed. His bowed shoulders relaxed and he closed his eyes.
"I know you examine Megassa regularly, to ensure no spells have snared her or erupted from
inside her like diseased seeds, but that is no reassurance to me. Our enemies killed my Bel, when
I had just learned to love her. Meggi is safe from them, thanks to your spells and her own strong
imbrose
, but that doesn't mean they won't use that miss-born girl to hurt her someday. I
won't risk it."

"Sending Megassa away again won't make Meghianna safer. Better to keep her here,
where everyone knows who she is, how she came to be. That was our original mistake, thinking
we protected both girls by keeping Megassa anonymous and hidden. We were wrong. It is only
by the grace of the Estall that we narrowly escaped the child falling into the hands of your
enemies." Mrillis sighed. "Yes, she will grow up knowing that few will ever trust her, because of
her heritage. But there is safety in truth. She will be watched, and she will know she is watched,
and we will be warned if she ever decides to move against us."

"A sad way for a child to live. I sometimes wish Trevissa had succeeded in killing her."
Efrin shook his head and held up a hand, stopping Mrillis when he opened his mouth to speak.
"Yes, I know she is my child, even if I sired her unknowing and unwillingly. Yes, I know she is
innocent. But did we do her any favors, saving her from her mother, to raise her a pariah? If only
she could have stayed safe in ignorance, where she was loved for herself." He shrugged again.
"That is all the love and pity I can spare her. Does that make me a lesser man?"

"It makes you a wise and wounded man, to know your flaws and faults," Mrillis offered
gently.

He ached for the young Warhawk, still seeing him as the eager, smiling little boy who
had sat on his knee and begged sweets and stories. Mrillis still thought of him as 'the boy,' rather
than High King, defender of the entire World.

Efrin sighed and rubbed his eyes with his fists. "So, Meghianna has met her sister." He
gestured at the report from Gynefra in Mrillis' hand. "Their resemblance could cause us problems
in the future."

"Megassa seems upset that someone looks like her, rather than intrigued," Mrillis
offered. "I wouldn't worry about it. Or rather, I wouldn't worry for long."

"Oh?" He leaned back in his chair again. "What do you know?"

"The flow of
imbrose
in her flesh, as it strengthens with her growth, will
change Meghianna's hair. There is a reason why the woman who heads the Stronghold is referred
to as Queen of Snows, and not just because of the Lake of Ice that guards her door. If she is as
strong as I suspect, Meghianna's hair will be snowy white by the time she is fifteen."

Efrin nodded slowly, eyes hooded as he thought over that bit of information. "Do you
know, I actually think that might be some comfort? I won't see her mother as she grows up. I
ache for Bel, and all we never had. Some might say having her living image in front of me would
be a gift, but I disagree."

Mrillis kept silent, and wondered when it would occur to Efrin that Megassa might grow
up to resemble Belissa, since Trevissa had looked so much like her cousin.

* * * *

Mrillis had personally trained the mare, Mist, to be Meghianna's pet and mount and
guard. It pleased him to see the instant affection that sprang up between the delicate child and the
deceptively delicate mare. It pleased him more to watch Efrin riding alongside his daughter,
laughing with her and not worried that the slightest miss-step or errant gust of wind would harm
Meghianna. Part of the reason she lived half the year at the Stronghold was to shield her from her
father's over-protective, guilt-spawned tendencies. True, she needed to learn her duties and
destiny as Queen of Snows almost from birth, but Efrin Warhawk didn't need to know the other
reason for his precious daughter living away from him.

Meghianna knew better than to wander around the Warhawk's fortress, and certainly not
to do it without at least Nalla in attendance. So it surprised Mrillis to see the girl scampering
across the open courtyard to the stables in the dewy shadows of dawn only three days after her
arrival in the fortress. He didn't hesitate to tap the nearest Thread and reach through it to touch
the child's mind.

He found Meghianna giggling with Nalla over her breakfast of bread, milk, and stewed
apples in her quarters.

"Megassa!" he called, leaning over the railing of the walkway at the top of the wall,
using a flicker of
imbrose
to make his voice ring off the cobblestones.

A flicker of green cloth appeared in the doorway of the stables for a moment, but the
child didn't step back out into the sunshine.

"Megassa, come out of there immediately!" Mrillis didn't wait for the girl to respond,
but hurried along the wall and down the nearest flight of stairs.

He reached the courtyard and called through the Threads for Gynefra and the other
members of the guard who had
imbrose
enough to hear him. All the members of the
Warhawk's personal guard were Valors, touched with some magic. Megassa had evaded her
caretakers yet again, and he suspected those assigned to her care this morning thought she was
still safely in her room, eating her breakfast.

My lord?
Gynefra snapped out a curse loud enough to be heard outside the
guard barracks, when Mrillis put an image in her mind of what he had seen, and where the child
was right that moment.

A horse's scream responded to the curse. Mrillis recognized that sound, though Mist had
never shown a flicker of bad temper before. He sent up a desperate prayer to the Estall and ran
into the shadowy stables. It occurred to him that if he slowed his steps just a fraction, Mist's
anger might solve Efrin's dilemma, wipe away the living evidence of duplicity, betrayal and
shame, and likely protect the future. He immediately scolded himself for that unworthy thought,
and turned the corner to race to Mist's stall.

After all, despite all their precautions, there was no way of knowing if Megassa was one
of the Three Drops of Blood of the prophecy, and if so, if she was the one who would suffer,
abominate, or wait. It didn't do for mere mortals to try to force the Estall's warnings to suit
them.

A green shape huddled on the top of the stall wall, watching the angry mare. A toppled
stool lay in front of the open stall door, giving evidence that the child had tried to mount the
mare already. Mrillis thought about foolish games he and his friends had played, the risks they
had taken, the dares they had thrown at each other in childhood. He knew exactly what Megassa
was planning to do--drop down on Mist, to ride her. Most likely because Mist wouldn't cooperate
and let her climb up.

"Megassa--" Mrillis stopped, when the tangle of red-gold curls hanging down the child's
back, the green smock and bare feet, and the little knuckles turned white from holding so tightly
to the precarious perch, inexplicably reminded him of Emrillian at that age. He caught his breath,
stabbed yet again with the loss of his daughter, as sharp as if it had happened just the day
before.

No, this child was not his daughter reborn, though he dreamed often of her returning to
him--just as he dreamed sometimes of Ceera walking through a door, dressed in pale green and
laughing, startled to see him. Why should spirits be startled to see a living man? He often woke
from such dreams trembling, cold from the icy weight of impending doom, aching to hold his
loved ones once again, no matter what price he had to pay.

This child was not Emrillian, though she had been precocious, too. She looked nothing
like his daughter at that age. The only reason Mrillis could find for these momentary flashes of
confusion was that seeing Megassa brought home to him afresh that he had lost Ceera to Triska,
and Emrillian to Endor, the child's grandmother and great-uncle--perhaps grandfather, as well.
While Trevissa was still a child, speculation had whispered that Endor had fathered the girl on
his own sister, trying to consolidate the power they had inherited from the Nameless One.

"She is not Emrillian," Mrillis whispered, and started forward again, reaching for the
tense, trembling body. Wide, pale green eyes stared at him, and he realized Megassa was
terrified, perched there above the restless, stomping, snorting mare.

No, Megassa was not his daughter, but seeing her reminded him of the latest prophecy
that spilled from Trevissa's lips. The child's mother was insane, and moons went by when she
didn't speak more than a few sentences of common sense. Then her eyes would fill with the mist
of a Seeing, her face would calm, her ceaseless pacing would still, and words would pour from
her. Anyone who asked her questions would get nothing but truth. During those moments of
lucidity, Trevissa had no real control over her mind and mouth, and could speak nothing but
truth, even if she was alert enough to want to prevaricate.

"Emrillian shall be born anew," Trevissa had said to him that winter day, when her
caretakers had been sure she wouldn't speak at all, let alone coherent words, "and all the hope
of the World will ride on her shoulders. Guard her well, for she shall be the Blood born of the
Blood, given to you by she who most fears you, and her pain shall cut you twice as deeply, for
you shall love her above all others, until the Blood born of the Blood shall come."

"Megassa." Mrillis held out his hands to the child perched on top of the stall wall, and
forced a smile. Only a few steps, and he would be able to grab hold of her and lift her down.

Gynefra dashed into the stables, her black hair streaming down her back, barefoot, her
tunic lacing undone, holding up her trousers with one hand and her belt hanging loose. She
skidded to a stop in the straw carpeting the main aisle of the stable.

"I'm sorry," Megassa whimpered, her eyes glistening like jewels with tears.

"Do you want to get hurt?" the guard captain said on a sigh. She nodded slightly to
Mrillis and stepped around to the open stall door, raising her hands to get Mist's attention.

"Want to ride."

"Why this horse?"

"It's the princess's horse. Everybody likes her. If they see me ride, they'll like me,
too."

"I like you, troublemaker though you are," Gynefra said, stepping into the stall. She
sidestepped quickly, making a sour face, and Mrillis guessed she barely missed stepping in a pile
of droppings--barefoot. He had seen Gynefra step in far worse without batting an eye, and knew
she did it to distract the child.

Holding his breath, he stepped up behind Megassa and took hold of her skirt with both
hands, making his touch delicate to avoid startling her.

"Really?" Megassa said, her voice on the verge of breaking.

"Absolutely. You're a tough little thing. I think you'd make a fine warrior. How would
you like to start training when you're older?"

"I'm not allowed to do anything," she said, shaking her head so hard, she tipped
sideways. "Bastards aren't allowed to be anything."

"Who told you that?" Gynefra frowned, sparks in her eyes, revealing to Mrillis that she
had been speaking the truth to the child--she did like her.

Megassa's answer was a yelp as she overbalanced and fell off the stall. Backwards,
straight into Mrillis' arms. He gasped as one flailing foot caught him just below the ribs. Hugging
the child close, he stepped backwards, away from the stall, before turning her around in his arms
to face him. He found himself reluctant to let go of her. How long had it been since he cuddled a
child close? Meghianna sometimes sat on his knee when they had one of their long talks, but
they were both too engrossed in her lessons to even think of cuddling. Meghianna's brilliance
fascinated him too much to even see her as a child to cuddle, much to his regret.

"There. Safely back on the ground again," he said, indulging in another squeeze before
putting her down. "Kindly do not frighten us again with such antics, Megassa."

"Are you mad?" the child whispered.

"Frightened that you'll get hurt," Gynefra said, dropping to her knees to run her hands
over the child, checking for cuts and other injuries.

"But if I'm going to be a soldier, I'll get hurt, won't I?" she said, frowning.

Mrillis found he preferred that thoughtful expression to her usual pout. He felt a queasy
little jolt of guilt as he realized that part of the child's attitude might be his fault, and her father's.
Efrin's avoidance of the child undoubtedly cued everyone else's attitude toward her.