empress of storms (18 page)

His prediction came true early that morning when a loud squeal woke Danaë from a deep sleep. At first she thought it was the scream of one of the horses, then realized it came from the next tent over when the sound was repeated.

Poor Flavia. This was my idea. I should go over and see if I can help.
Reluctantly getting out of the warm bed, she wrapped up in a thick woolen cloak and slid her feet into her boots. Outside the tent the air was chilly but very clear, and the banked camp fires gave off a muted glow. Overhead, the stars were a handful of glowing diamond dust scattered with a careless hand across black velvet.

She picked her way over to her handmaid’s tent, then stopped. She hadn’t noticed that the other side of her bed was empty, and was surprised at the sight of Matthias holding a bundled Luna and walking back and forth in front of Flavia’s tent. He spoke to the tiny girl in a low murmur, pointing at the sky.

Mystified but charmed by the sight, Danaë padded up behind them. “What are you doing?” she whispered.

Matthias turned. “Oh, hello,” he said, sounding self-conscious. “Er, she was crying earlier and it woke me up.”

“So I see. Where’s Flavia?”

He glanced at the small tent. “I told her to go back to bed. Lukas used to have trouble sleeping at this age, as well, and I remembered how I used to take him out on the balcony and show him the stars.” He bounced Luna once, getting another happy squeal out of her. “Apparently this one’s a stargazer as well.”

“Are you?” Danaë reached over and tucked a strand of the child’s hair back into her blanket. “Do you like the stars, sweetheart?”

Luna blinked at her, giggling once and grabbing at her hand.

“You know, you can use them to navigate on the sea,” Danaë confided, letting the chubby little fist squeeze her finger. “When you’re older, I’ll take you out in a sailboat and teach you how.”

“That’s a good idea. In fact, I can come along and she can teach us both,” Matthias murmured.

Danaë smiled, moving closer. “We’ll have to be patient with him, though,” she said to the child. “Boys can be a bit slow at times.”

Matthias huffed at that. “I wager I know as many constellations as you do, your majesty.”

“Ha.” She looked up at the sky, spotting her favorite. “Which one’s that, then?”

He sighted along her arm. “You mean the Hunter? You can do better than that.”

“Fine. What about that one?”

“That’s the Big Dog. The Little Dog is up there, and the three of them are hunting the Hare, right there.” He pointed out the constellations as he named them. “All right, Queen Know-it-all, what’s that one?”

She peered at the sky. “That’s the Whale, of course. But did you know it was originally named the Cetus, a legendary monster that was ordered to ravage one of the Hellene islands as punishment after the gods grew angered at its ruler’s vanity and boastfulness?”

“I didn’t. What happened then?”

“The ruler chained his beautiful daughter Andromede to a rock as a sacrifice to the monster, but she was rescued by the hero Perseus who slew the Cetus and claimed Andromede as his bride. I was named after Perseus’s mother.”

Matthias shifted Luna to his other arm, wrapping the now-free one around Danaë. “So you’re named after the mother of a hero. I like that.”

Danaë snuggled into his side. “Yes, except I hope that our son, or daughter for that matter, won’t be expected to battle vengeful monsters. The members of the royal council are difficult enough in that respect.”

“This is true.” He glanced down at the bundled child in his other arm. “I think she’s sleeping.”

Danaë peered at the child. Luna’s eyes were closed and her little rosebud mouth pooched with each breath. “I think you’re right. I’ll take her back in to Flavia and get her settled.”

“Excellent. I’ll make sure the bed is warmed for you when you get back to our tent,” Matthias promised.

She kissed him. “Be waiting there for me. That’s all I need.”

He smiled against her lips. “With or without my nightshirt?”

“Surprise me.”

****

The crossing through the Arrienne Pass was uneventful, although Danaë was struck again by the cold beauty of the looming peaks on either side of the pass.

The newest addition to their band wasn’t as impressed, however. Although she was well-wrapped and full from a breakfast of sweet grains, Luna fussed in the maid’s arms despite Flavia’s best attempts to distract her. Her offended wails got louder and louder until Darius of all people dropped back and pulled off his ambassadorial chain of office. He handed it to the toddler, assuring Danaë, “It’s far too big for her to swallow. And if she’s teething the metal will feel nice and cool against her gums.”

“And you know this how?” a dubious Flavia said, taking the chain from him and dangling it in front of Luna. The little girl stopped grizzling and grabbed at the pretty chain, drawing one of the swirling medallions into her mouth and gumming it. “By the gods. It worked.”

“I
have
spent some time around children,” Darius said. “My life isn’t all politics and bed play, you know.”

The maid snorted at that, and Danaë was tempted to do likewise. “Keep this up and we’ll suspect you have a secret family somewhere,” she told her brother.

For a moment Darius seemed pensive, then grinned. “I’m not the settling down type. I like travel far too much and the thrill of the hunt. But I’m not a complete fool when it comes to entertaining a little one. Besides, she must be missing her family. It’s not as if she knows any of us, poor tyke.”

Danaë stayed silent. She wished she could tell her brother about Luna’s possible paternity, but she’d agreed with Matthias’s decision. Passing the child off as an orphan they’d taken in was safer for everyone, Luna included.

“She’ll get used to us, won’t you, sweet girl?” Flavia cooed to the child. “Have you thought about foster parents yet, mistress?”

“I thought I’d foster her myself.”

Flavia blinked in surprise. Even Darius seemed taken aback. “How does Matthias feel about this?” he asked.

“He’s in agreement. As Flavia said, she’s a sweet child, and it’s good practice for when our own children come along.”

Her maid seemed to accept the explanation, but Darius turned and studied Luna’s face more closely. Danaë’s heart sank when his brows went up, his gaze sharpening.

But he didn’t say anything other than, “Yes, I see what he means. And she’s a pretty child. I’m sure you’ll make an excellent foster mother, sister dear.”

“Your faith in me is touching,” she said, hoping her sarcasm would distract him. “As is your willingness to let Luna drool on your chain.”

“I’m a generous man,” Darius said. “Ask anyone.”

Flavia didn’t snort again, but she rolled her eyes so hard Danaë thought it had to hurt.

The royal convoy made far better time going downhill than they had going up, and reached the wooded foothills near the border by that evening. They made camp again instead of diverting to a nearby town, although Danaë knew Matthias had already sent men ahead to ask about Lukas. “I don’t want to make any more formal stops if we don’t have to,” he explained later on in their tent. “It’s bad enough that we piqued their interest back in Creswaal. I’d prefer to avoid any more of that if we can.”

“Not to mention interest in Luna. I think Darius suspects who she is.”

“Did he ask you?”

“No, but he’s neither blind nor a fool. And for a toddler Luna does take very much after you and Lukas.”

Matthias sat back in his camp chair, one finger held to his lips as he thought. “There is that. I wonder if it would be better if we let it get about that she’s my by-blow,” he said absently.

Danaë felt her jaw drop. It was an effort to close her mouth. “Do you think anyone would believe that?”

Matthias glanced at her, still abstracted. “Why not? It’s plausible enough. I’ve been alone for the last three years, and I’ve left Mons a handful of times. It’s not unreasonable that I’d seek comfort with a woman somewhere. We don’t have to confirm it if anyone asks, but a loaded silence can be as good as speaking the words themselves.”

She wondered if Matthias understood how that would reflect on her. “You do remember that I plan on taking her into the palace and fostering myself, yes?” she said, nettled. “I don’t particularly relish the idea of having people gossiping behind my back that I’m raising your illegitimate daughter.”

“And yet you have no problem with the idea of raising my illegitimate granddaughter,” he said, a faint tone of irritation in his voice. “I don’t see much of a difference in the two.”

“I’m not Lukas’s wife. If people think Luna is yours and I take her in, I would look ridiculous.”

He straightened in his chair, his expression turning cold. “I am trying to come up with a way of protecting the child that also keeps public interest in Lukas at a minimum. You said that you wanted to foster her. I agreed to it. We both know the truth about her parentage, or at least what we think is the truth. Why do you care what other people think about it?”

Her skin prickled as her anger rose. “You have no idea what it’s like to have your people gossip about you. I do. After my father died…” Her throat tightened. She hadn’t wanted to tell him this way, but he’d forced it on her. “The Royal Council and the Grand Magister of Hellas suspected that I’d created the rogue wave that killed Father. They convened a star chamber to investigate me. I was able to disprove the charges and the matter was sworn to secrecy, but somehow word got out about it. I’ve spent the last year dealing with rumors that I killed my father for the throne. So you’ll have to forgive me for not wanting to take on an entirely new set of whispered accusations.”

Some of the coldness drained from his expression. “I know about that. Darius told me.” His voice dropped. “I wish you had.”

It felt like a verbal slap. “When was I supposed to do this?” she asked. “Before the wedding, when it seemed like you were doing everything in your power not to marry me? Was I supposed to give you additional ammunition then? Or perhaps I should have told you after the demon attack, when you were already reeling from the knowledge that your son had tried to kill you. I’m sure it would have gone over quite well then.”

“Calm yourself, Danaë,” Matthias said. “I simply meant—”

“I know what you meant,” she snapped. “Yes, I was afraid to tell you. I was afraid to ruin your good opinion of me, what little there is of it. I’m so glad that my feckless brother took that burden from me. It means I can shoulder this new one. At least it’ll be a change to have people only laughing at me behind my back instead of calling me a murderess.”

A low rumble of thunder sounded overhead as Matthias got to his feet, jaw muscles standing out like rocks. “You’re being ridiculous. Your brother was trying to help you, nothing more. And if you’re so precious about your reputation then perhaps you shouldn’t be fostering Luna at all.”

Danaë clenched her fists. “Unless you’re planning at leaving her at the border she will soon be in my country, and I will decide where she is fostered. Don’t forget yourself, husband. I may be merely your consort in Ypres, but I am the ruler of Hellas!”

Matthias opened his mouth to say something when the tent canvas lit up white. A bone-shaking boom a heartbeat later made them both jump. The canvas over their heads began to tremble, followed by a loud hissing noise as rain began to pound on the tent.

The king frowned at the canvas. “There were no clouds earlier.”

Danaë also glanced up, anger juddering to a halt. She extended her senses, sending invisible tendrils up into the storm. What she saw there horrified her. The churning clouds were netted with the silvery tracks of magic hauling on wisps of water vapor and rubbing the resulting masses together until they gained enough of a charge, sending violet-white bolts down towards the land.

Oh, gods. How did I do this?

She jumped again as a furious voice outside shouted, “Danaë! Get out here now!” 

With a parting glare for Matthias she hurried to the tent flap, ducking through it and into a torrential downpour. The guards positioned outside were already soaked, and in front of them a sodden and very angry Magistra Ife stood, one hand holding up the top of her dripping hood. 

“What in the gods’ names are you doing, girl!” the mage demanded.

“I—” Danaë stopped, anger sputtering out as the cold rain drenched her clothes and skin. “I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t practicing, I swear.”

“I know that, you foolish child,” Ife barked at her. “It doesn’t work like this over dry land anyway. What
did
you do?”

Danaë wiped a sheet of water off her face. “Can we go to your tent?”

Muttering a curse, Ife spun and stalked towards her shelter, Danaë in tow. Once they got in Ife peeled off her drenched cloak and spread it on her trunk to dry. She pointed at her camp chair, glaring at Danaë. “Sit. I need to fix this mess.”

Feeling like a scolded child, Danaë sat, folding her arms across her for warmth. Ife closed her eyes, spreading her hands and turning her face up to the tent top. Her lips moved as she worked.

Danaë wanted to push her senses back into the clouds, watch while the master mage undid what she’d done. But she knew that doing so would distract Ife and cause even worse disruption. Trying to control her shivering, she waited for the mage to finish.

Finally, Ife lowered her face, her shoulders sagging. “I’ve disrupted the worst of it. There may be some unseasonable blizzards along the peaks in the next few weeks or so, but hopefully nothing worse than that.”

“I’m sorry,” Danaë repeated. Weather spells could be very dangerous if they were allowed to get out of control. She knew that all too well.

Ife grunted at her, picking up the cloak and digging inside the trunk. She pulled out two towels and tossed one to Danaë, sitting on the camp bed and drying her face and hair with the other one. “Explain.”

Danaë shrank even more. There was no way around a direct command from a tutor. “I was arguing with Matthias,” she said, trying to find a way around the argument without revealing Luna’s secret. “He … he wanted me to do something that would be damaging to my reputation.”