Red as Flame

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The air smelled of salt as we came into Portknowe. My mother and I occupied the lead coach, along with her lady’s maid, a quiet woman named Briddy, who spent most of the long day’s journey bent over her knitting.

I’d brought a novel, but found it difficult to read as we jolted down the road. For the most part, I stared out the window at the wall of evergreens passing by and thought of Thorne.

“Try to say nothing when we meet the priests,” Mama finally said as we crested the rise leading down to Portknowe. She’d been pale and silent the whole way, alternately frowning and pretending to nap.

“I don’t plan to say anything.” I twisted the Nightshade Lord’s red ring on my finger. The less notice they paid me, the better.

“And keep your hood up, if possible.”

I nodded, smoothing the blue wool cloak folded about me. It was a vain hope that Galtus Celcio wouldn’t recognize me as the bearer of the sorcery he’d surely sensed, but I’d feel better hiding my face.

The road turned to cobblestones as we entered the port town. As we clattered our way to the best inn, I smelled roasting meat, and my stomach tightened with hunger. Lunch had been hours ago. We’d eaten in the coach and, in a mark of true distraction, Mama hadn’t even scolded me for scattering crumbs on the floor. Not that there had been many, but she was a fastidious eater.

The coach rocked to a stop in front of The Whistling Dolphin, which was located in the town square. We’d taken a meal there, once, but never spent the night. I was certain the accommodations wouldn’t meet Mama’s standards, but given her current state, perhaps she wouldn’t notice.

I’d never seen my mother so withdrawn and tense—almost as if she were the one in danger of being burned alive, not me.

The memory of Ser Pietro’s death by fire shivered down my spine. Though Mama had kept me from seeing the worst of it, I still recalled his cries of anguish, the feel of fierce heat against the side of my face.

The priests wouldn’t do any such thing on Rainish soil, I reminded myself. It would be a true act of war. Even if they managed to overwhelm the soldiers and capture or kill Lord Raine, his heir, Princess Neeve, was safely tucked beyond their reach.

Besides, according to the king’s spy, only Galtus Celcio and two other priests were aboard the small ship on its way from Parnese. That didn’t seem like an invasion force, no matter how powerful the warder was. And Sir Durum had sent for an extra garrison of soldiers from the city of Meriton to help keep Portknowe, and us, safe.

The coach door opened, and the king stepped forward, holding out his hand to assist Mama from the vehicle. He and Sir Durum had chosen to travel on horseback instead of being cooped up all day. I didn’t blame them, though so many hours in the saddle would have exhausted my rudimentary riding skills.

I alighted after my mother. The fresh wind off the sea lifted my hair as dozens of soldiers milled around us. Some of them would be taking the remainder of the rooms at The Whistling Dolphin, keeping guard over us. The others would be stationed at the harbor and about the town, along with the Meriton soldiers, whose tents were pitched like pale mushrooms in the meadows outside Portknowe.

Curious faces peeked from windows in the upper stories of the businesses that surrounded the square, though only a small contingent of townspeople had come to meet us. The mayor, I guessed, and her council members.

A figure in a dark cloak drifted up to the king, and I recognized the spy who’d brought word that the priests were coming.

“Tomorrow afternoon,” she said to Lord Raine, so softly I scarcely heard the words.

“Come,” my mother said, taking my arm and turning me away from the king. “I am utterly weary. Let us find our rooms.”

I wanted to stay and see if I could glean anything more, but Mama’s grip was tight as she hauled me away, and I didn’t want to make a scene in front of everyone.

I’d heard enough, though. The priests would arrive tomorrow.

The inn was pleasant inside, with plastered walls, a staircase opposite the large fireplace, and several tables scattered about the common room. It smelled somewhat comfortingly of ale and wood smoke. We didn’t linger, however, as the innkeeper bustled forward to show us to our rooms. Briddy trailed us up the stairs, followed by soldiers bearing our luggage.

“Here you are, your majesty,” the innkeeper said, opening the door of a large suite near the end of the hall. “Our best rooms, for you and the king. I hope they’ll suit.”

Mama gave a cursory glance about the carpeted sitting area and turned to the man with a vague smile. “They’ll do.”

“Excellent.” He bobbed her a bow. “I’ll have some tea sent up while you settle. And my wife bakes wonderful scones. They’ll tide you over while we finish cooking your dinner.”

My mother nodded and stepped into the room without a backward glance.

She doesn’t care what becomes of you, my little voice said with a vicious edge.

She’s only distracted, I replied. Mama had never been a particularly warm parent, but I had to admit I was disappointed at her lack of concern. What if the red priests struck me down on the spot tomorrow? What if Galtus Celcio kidnapped me and forced me to go to Parnese? Ignoring her daughter didn’t seem particularly kind.

I blew out a sigh and stood back from the door as the lady’s maid and baggage-laden soldiers followed Mama into the suite.

“Princess Rose,” the innkeeper said with a deferential nod, “you’re here, just across the hall.”

He opened the door, and I stepped into a room containing a bed, a stone-fronted hearth, a small wardrobe, and a writing desk and chair. The single window looked away from the harbor and toward the last fringes of the Darkwood before it met the coast. I was glad of the sight.

“Thank you,” I said. “I’ll be quite comfortable, I’m sure.”

As comfortable as anyone could be with the threat of fiery death hanging over them.

He smiled at me from the doorway. “Good, good. We’ll let you know when dinner is ready.”

A pair of soldiers came in with my trunk. They deposited it next to the wardrobe, bowed, then left, closing the door behind them. No doubt they would be taking positions outside, guarding my door. I might be barely a princess, but I was still part of the royal family.

What was Neeve doing that moment in the Nightshade Court? I stepped to the window, looking out the slightly rippled glass toward the heart of the forest. I could imagine my sister there, elegantly garbed in a Dark Elf gown of ruby red, gems sparkling in her hair.

No doubt she was learning everything she could about her heritage from her uncle, the forbidding Nightshade Lord. Perhaps she was casting illusions in the dim gardens, beneath the double moons of Elfhame. Perhaps she was learning battle magics, to go with her already-honed swordsmanship.

I hoped she would write back to me, but even if she did not, I’d keep penning letters to her. It was strange, to think that well over a week had sped by in the mortal world since I’d last seen her, while for her it had barely been a single day.

There was no time for her to miss me yet, I supposed. Though maybe she yearned for Kian, whom she’d promised to marry. I hoped so, though my sister wasn’t the pining type. Still, it was clear that she and the Fiorland prince had developed a deep bond. One that would only grow stronger through the years—provided the healers were able to cure the Dark Elf sickness in her blood.

They would, I staunchly told myself.

As for Kian, he’d certainly arrived in Fiorland by now, reassuring his parents he hadn’t been murdered in the Darkwood. I missed him, too, though my feelings for him had cooled to something more like sisterly love.

The brightest flame in my heart, as ever, belonged to Thorne.

And to myself, I supposed. Carrying fire sorcery wasn’t comfortable, but it gave me more options than I’d ever had before.

Which reminded me that I needed to practice the mirror shield. I’d tried, in the coach, but it had been difficult to concentrate. I thought I’d succeeded in strengthening the outer reflections, but it was impossible to know without Mistress Ainya there to test me.

My rooms were quiet enough that I could attempt to hold the shield and call upon my power. And then try to bury it deep inside me, so the red priests would sense nothing more than quiet embers.

Ignoring my waiting trunk, I took off my cloak and went to sit on the side of the bed.

Come, I thought, closing my eyes and holding out my hand. Esfera.

I’d gotten that word from the red book I’d discovered hidden in the library—a book I’d recently began studying again, with the king’s permission. It was, on the surface, a strange collection of recipes, but buried in the pages was a long-ago spy’s account of infiltrating the warder sect of the Twin Gods.

Unfortunately, many of the hidden pages had been glued too tightly against the innocuous recipes concealing them, and it had proven impossible to pry them open without permanent damage. As a result, the book still held many undiscovered secrets.

The book had remained at Castle Raine, though I’d memorized the chant for calling fire: Esfera to quera, firenda des almar.

When I returned to Castle Raine, I vowed to spend more time trying to steam the pages loose. Perhaps Mistress Ainya, or even Miss Groves, would have some tricks to loosen the stubborn glue.

For now, though, I had the words of the chant—though I was afraid to speak all of it. The memory of the Nightshade throne blazing to ashes in mere seconds made me wary. My power was strong, and I couldn’t fully control it.

But I could coax it to me.

“Esfera,” I said softly, cupping my palm. Inviting the fire to nestle there, in my hand.

Faint warmth tickled my skin, and I opened my eyes to see the barest flicker of orange and yellow dancing on my palm.

Joy swept through me at the sight—but as quickly as the flames had come, they snuffed out. I stretched, reaching after them, but my power folded itself away, turning its back on me.

Though I tried for another hour to coax the flames to life again, they never came. I told myself it was for the best. I’d succeeded in stifling my power, and wasn’t that what I wanted?

A cold wind whipped off the sea, despite the fact it was midsummer. I shivered and wrapped my cloak more tightly around me, tasting salt and fear. We stood on the main dock in Portknowe’s harbor: the king, Sir Durum, Mama, and me, surrounded by guards. The mayor hovered warily behind us, and more soldiers were clustered at intervals along the shore and up into the town.

They were spaced apart just in case Galtus Celcio started flinging fireballs ashore. Even if one group fell, the rest could come running to our aid. Half the Meriton garrison waited north of Portknowe, as well. Just in case.

The white sails of the small ship bearing the warder and his priests seemed altogether too innocent as the boat sailed across the blue waters. In my imagination, the boat bearing the red priests should be made of charred and blackened timbers, the sails tattered and smeared with ash.

We watched silently as the ship entered the curving harbor, tacking back and forth across the sun-tipped waves. Not long now. I closed my eyes and imagined the outer surface of my mirror shield polished to brightness. Reflecting everything, revealing nothing.

Beside me, Mama was very pale. Her gloved fingers were laced tightly together, and I could see her hands trembling. I wasn’t in much better condition—but there was nothing to be done except face the arriving priests with as much courage as I could muster.

Imagine you’re Neeve, I told myself. Show no fear.

My sister would greet her enemies calmly, although she never could control the fierce color that rose in her cheeks whenever she was upset. It made me love her more, that she was not always a collected statue of a girl.

As the ship approached the dock, a handful of Portknowe’s sailors sidled past us, preparing to help guide the vessel into its berth. I could make out figures on the deck now, and my breath froze at the sight of the red-cloaked trio standing at the bow.

Warder Galtus Celcio’s hood was thrown back, revealing hawklike features and hair a darker auburn than my own. Flanking him were a thin-faced older man with gray-threaded hair and a plump young woman whose rounded features seemed familiar. The wind combed through her wavy brown tresses, and I leaned forward, eyes narrowed.

That couldn’t be… Was it my old childhood friend, Paulette?

Surely not.

My concentration faltered, and I felt a tickling sensation at the edges of my shield. Quickly, I focused on imagining the protective sphere around me, reflecting back any seeking probes. I couldn’t afford to be distracted at that moment. Even if the young woman in the scarlet cloak was Paulette Dominas.

The sails lowered, flapping in the wind. Gulls circled the ship, crying, while the sailors on the dock shouted instructions. Ropes were tossed down, and slowly the ship was drawn snugly into its berth. The sailors onboard pushed out the gangway, and it, too, was quickly secured.

The trio of priests appeared at the top of the ramp, and for a moment the restless wind paused. So did my breathing and the muttering of the soldiers around us. The stub of my pinky prickled with a sudden ache.

At least the warder hadn’t lobbed fire at us from the ship then turned and fled—which had been one possibility.

But as the priests descended, the hair on the back of my neck rose. I could feel the warder’s power rising off him like a heat mirage. Galtus Celcio had no need to shelter his magic or try to hide it within a mirror shield. He strode forward confidently, scanning the waiting crowd. I shrank behind Mama, pulling my hood forward.

The king stepped forward, his guards close about him. As soon as the priests set foot on the dock, Lord Raine spoke.

“Greetings, warder.” It was not a particularly warm welcome.

“Your majesty.” Galtus Celcio dipped his head. His voice was rich and deep, like dark honey. “Thank you for allowing us to land.”

The king’s cool demeanor didn’t change. “What brings you to our shore?”

Well. Lord Raine certainly wasn’t wasting any time with polite formalities. Then again, why should he welcome a potential enemy into the kingdom?

One of the warder’s auburn brows twitched up. “No offer of a cup of ale at the hearth first? No pleasantries before we discuss more weighty matters?”

“No.” The wind picked up again, whipping Lord Raine’s cloak around him.

An ironic smile lifted Galtus Celcio’s lips. “I’d heard you Rainish folk were blunt, and I see the rumors are true. Do you really want to proceed in this manner?”

“I do.” The king’s voice was hard. “Whatever you have to say, I prefer you speak it out in the open.”

Beside me, Mama let out a little whimper and reached for my hand. Her grip was tight on mine, and I didn’t pull away, much as I wished to. What did she fear so greatly?

“Well then.” The warder paused, once again looking over the people assembled on the dock. When he spied my mother, his gaze sharpened.

Then he looked at me, and I froze like a rabbit beneath the shadow of a hawk. Our eyes met, and with a shock I realized his were the same slate-blue color as my own. Lightning prickled around my shield, and I clenched my fists, trying to keep the mirrored sphere from collapsing. Trying to keep the knowledge of who he was at bay, even while the truth settled like ice in my bones.

Galtus Celcio gave a sharp, satisfied nod, then turned back to the king.

“I am here,” he said, his voice heavy with gratification, “to retrieve my daughter.”