Page 4 of A Court of Masks and Roses
By the time I approach the main house again, the early sunbathes the courtyard, illuminating lone figures going through training. How different Leaf’s and my lives would have been if the king’s brother hadn’t fallen in love with a whisperer scholar he could never marry. If Leaf and I weren’t bastards of the king’s disgraced dead brother. If the bishop’s rise to power hadn’t translated into magic users being treated as criminals. Leaf probably would have been in charge of some academy by now. And I... I might be doing normal things. Spending time with a friend. Kissing a boy. Eating a family dinner.
“He’s waiting for you,” the man tending hydrangeas beside the front steps murmurs without looking up from his work.
The words snap me back to reality. What I did last night. What I’m facing today. My heart speeds as I walk into the office and bow to the short, pudgy man sitting behind a polished oak desk. Lord Gapral’s office is so laden with books, I must take the existence of walls on faith, though at the moment, caving walls and objects on the brink of avalanche are the least of my worries.
You will protect you. My mind recites Gapral’s own teachings.You are your own fortress.
Lord Gapral keeps his gaze on a letter he’s reading, stray rays of sunlight bouncing off his bald head. “Report, Scout Kalianna,” he barks.
“Viva Sylthia indoctrinated a new recruit, sir,” I say crisply, outlining my evening with short, clear strokes. As I approach the latter part, I choose my words carefully. “A cell of three experienced members took what appeared to be an initiate out of the inn’s common room and toward the barn. I believe they intended mischief, but there was a commotion and soldiers chased the Viva men away.”
“I see.” He rubs his upper lip. “Any problems?”
I shrug, even as my heart pounds against bruised ribs. “None.”
“You were late,” Lord Gapral says with a quiet calm that I dare not underestimate. He used the same voice five years ago, upon discovering that I’d disobeyed his orders and started socializing with another trainee at the estate.
“I stayed to see whether my marks would return. They did not.”
A dismissive wave of his hand floods me with relief. “Any mention of larger plans?”
“The usual rhetoric about the evilness of Everett and the need to take back the Sylthia lands, but nothing specific or actionable.”
“Damn.” Lord Gapral sighs. “That cell is from Delta. They keep a low profile over there in the capital and I’d hoped their tongues would loosen on this trip. I’ll be damned if something isn’t in the works.”
“Yes, sir.” Stars, but I’m luckier than I have any right to be—it would be just like Lord Gapral to have had a second scout in the area. The fact that he didn’t post one, or at least not one close enough to give a contradictory report... I’m so dizzy with relief that it takes me a moment to realize I’ve not been dismissed just yet.
On the contrary, Lord Gapral is leaning back in his chair and tapping the letter he’s been reading. “I’ve a new assignment for you,” he says finally. “King Firehorn has requested a scout with a working knowledge of Viva Sylthia to attend him at the palace.”
I stare at my master. “I was under the impression that King Firehorn dissolved all official ties with us when my father died, sir.” A kind way of saying that after Mother’s death left us orphaned, the king and his wife had been about to send Leaf and me to the Goddess’s temple when Lord Gapral intervened. Had Firehorn had his way, I’d be one of BishopBahir’s Children of the Goddess now, selling flowers and proselytizing. Leaf would be dead.
“Things change. The queen and her babe died in childbirth several months past, which may have altered the king’s thinking. Either way, the point is that King Firehorn subsidized you and Leaf, his brother’s bastards, for twelve years. Now that you’ve both reached the age of majority and the documents forever barring you from the line of succession to the throne are irreversible, he wishes to call in the investment.”
I put my hands behind my back, digging my nails into my wrist. I hate cities. I hate Firehorn. But most of all, I cannot bear the separation from my sister. “Wouldn’t I be more useful to him in the shadows? I’ve no experience in a palace, but I do in a forest.”
“You’ve no experience in a palaceyet,” Lord Gapral corrects. “And you’ve etiquette training enough to play the lady. As for the other, don’t be daft about working from a shadowed outpost. I have plenty of male scouts who can do it—and can do it better than you. Your specialty lies in being simultaneously female and male, a young man skilled in weaponry and a noble lady of childbearing age and royal blood. The shadows in which you work shall be in plain sight.” His face hardens. “I was informing you of your orders, scout, not requesting your opinion.”
“Of course, sir.” I bow quickly to distract from the shaking in my voice.
But Gapral is not done with me yet. “There is one other thing, Kalianna.” He meets my eyes, and the worry there is enough to turn my bowels. “The king insists that Leaf accompany you.”
“He is acknowledging a crippled whisperer as a relation?” The words are out before I can bother with diplomacy.
“No. The official letter claims that Firehorn little wishes to separate the family and requests that Leaf attend you as a lady’s maid. But I imagine you can read between the lines as well as I?”
My mouth dries. Firehorn wants Leaf as collateral. “I understand, sir,” I say, gathering myself together.
Lord Gapral nods toward the door. “Get packing then. And Kalianna—” He waits until I turn back to face him. “The king might little understand that Leaf is infinitely more valuable to our kingdom than you are, but I trust that you do. And I trust that when you are in Delta, you will not put Leaf’s life in danger to save a handful of horses.”
3
KALI
Ihave no one to say goodbye to, except the horses. And even if I did, I wouldn’t dare. So I spend the week before our departure with trainers, polishing my court etiquette and debating which latest fashions would best conceal my vambrace of throwing knives. The others know I’m leaving, of course—in an estate full of scouts, we know the signs. Surges of supply orders, a change in trainers’ schedules to accommodate the departing scout’s needs, shifting chores. Occasionally, another scout will meet my eyes and hold them just a moment too long before we both look away. A silent “farewell and good luck.” I savor those long glances, trying to wrap the memory of them in velvet and hide them inside my chest.
Leaf, on the other hand... I shut my eyes at the sight of little paper-wrapped parcels that line her worktable the evening before our departure. “You can’t leave presents, Leaf.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “It’s a giveaway that you areplanning on leaving and don’t expect to be back for some time.”
Leaf glances over her shoulder and adds a vial of something to one of the packages. “Iamleaving. And Iamplanning on not being back for some time. And none of this is actually a secret from anyone at the estate. People—scouts included—deserve to know that someone cares about them.”
