empress of storms (19 page)

“And that was enough for you to call up an uncontrolled storm?”

“I didn’t!” Danaë insisted. “At least, I didn’t mean to. I haven’t done any sort of weather working since….” She bit her lip. “Since Father died.”

Ife’s stern expression remained, but her voice softened slightly. “Child, that wasn’t your fault. Even your tutor agreed.”

Danaë felt like she’d been punched in the gut. “But what if he was wrong? What if I had, but they were covering it up so that I could take the throne? I don’t know, magistra, not for sure.”

Ife grimaced. “Well, we’ll deal with that later. For now, you must control yourself better than this. You will argue with your husband any number of times over the course of your marriage. If you set off a thunderstorm every time that happens you’ll wreak havoc not just on your countries but on the weather patterns of the entire continent.”

“I know,” Danaë said, guilty now. “I swear, magistra, I don’t know how it happened. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“It
is
puzzling. Very few water mages can call up storms that strong over dry land, and I’ve never heard of an adept being able to do it.” She blinked. “Are you with child? That can do strange things to your abilities.”

Danaë rested a hand on her belly, wondering. “I think it’s too soon after my courses.”

The other woman shook her head. “Then I can’t explain it. But in any case you must keep better control of yourself. You’re far too old for a binding collar.”

Danaë flushed. Once in a while a mage came into their power well before puberty. Until they matured enough to begin training they were given binding collars, a locking golden chain imbued with powerful spells that dampened their abilities. It was an embarrassing punishment for an adept to wear one. “I promise I’ll control myself,” she muttered.

“See that you do. Your first test will be resolving this argument with the king.” Ife waved at the tent flap. “Off you go.” 

With reluctance she stood and did as ordered, slogging across the soaked turf to her own pavilion. The guards were still on duty and were careful to maintain blank expressions, but she could feel their discomfort and annoyance with an undercurrent of fear.

She stopped in front of the tent. “One of you go find your replacements. Have them come on duty while you get dry.”

They nodded and stepped aside, holding the tent flap open for her. Feeling like she was stepping back into that star chamber, Danaë entered the tent.

****

Matthias got to his feet as his wife came back in. The only way to describe her was bedraggled.

His irritation had settled during her absence. He had no idea that she’d been dealing with rumors that she’d killed King Cresus. Suggestions that Luna was his by-blow would be an additional and unnecessary humiliation.

And now, seeing Danaë damp and miserable like this, all he wanted to do was sweep her into his arms and get her warm and comfortable again.

“Shall I have Flavia fetch you dry clothes?” he offered.

She shook her head, damp curls swinging in front of her face. “I can do it,” she said quietly. “She’s tending to Luna. I don’t want to bother her right now.”

She went to her trunk, rooting through it for a night shift. Matthias turned his back to give her some privacy. “I can mull us some wine, if you like?”

“Yes, thank you.”

He went to the small brazier warming the tent, picking up the set of fire tongs hung on its side. He shoved them into the brightest part of the coals to heat, then busied himself pouring two goblets of wine. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You’re right. Making it look like you’re raising my illegitimate child would be humiliating to you. I won’t do that.”

He could hear the rustle of fabric behind him, but she didn’t reply. He pulled the tongs out of the brazier, eyeing the dull red of the metal, then plunged them into the goblets. The surface of the wine bubbled and hissed, sending up spiced steam. 

Picking up the goblets he turned to her, then stopped. She stood there in her dry nightshift, towel in one hand, as silent tears rolled down her face. Dripping off her chin, they made dark spots on the bodice of her shift.

His heart ached. “Oh, little bird,” he murmured, crossing to her. “Please don’t cry. I’m sorry. I was an ass.”

She shook her head, wiping at her tears. “No, you were right. I should have told you about the star chamber,” she said, gulping. “I’m sorry. I was terrified of how you would react.”

He put down the goblets and pulled her into his arms. She pressed her face against his chest, shuddering now. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she cried, her voice muffled by his tunic.

“Shh,” he soothed, rubbing her back. “It’s all right, shh.”

Sometimes a storm had to be allowed to blow itself out. He waited until her sobs had subsided, then kissed her hair. “I’ll tell you what I told Darius,” he murmured. “I have complete faith in you. I know you loved your father and would never do anything to harm him. Whatever happened that day, it wasn’t your intention. And I sincerely doubt it was your fault in the first place.”

“I wish I could believe that.”

His hand came up, cupping her head and stroking her wet hair. “Then I’ll believe it for you until you can.”

She choked out a laugh, pulling back far enough to look up into his face. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, Matthias, I truly don’t.”

He smiled. “I wonder the exact same thing. Come, let’s get your hair dried, and then we’ll have our wine.”

He plucked the towel from her hand, using it first to wipe the tears from her face, then to soak up the rainwater from her hair. When he judged he’d gotten it as dry as possible, he tossed the towel onto a trunk and picked up one of the goblets, handing it to her. “I don’t think that chair is strong enough for you to sit in my lap,” he said, “so let’s sit on the bed where you can pull the covers over you. I don’t want you catching a chill.”

“A few minutes in the rain isn’t going to make me sick,” she said, but let him take her to the camp bed and tuck her in a sitting position under the warm blankets. He went to the other side, still holding his goblet and shucking down to his tunic before crawling in next to her.

“Not a drop spilled,” she said, giving him a shaky smile. “I’m impressed, my king. That takes talent.”

“A remnant of a dissolute youth. Then again, I have all kinds of talents that you haven’t seen yet,” he said, putting an arm around her and pulling her close before sipping his wine. The warmth and spiced sweetness filled his mouth. “For instance, did you know that I played the flute?”

She was in mid-sip of her own wine and choked a bit before swallowing. “No, I didn’t. May I hear you play sometime?”

“Not unless you long for deafness. I said I played it, not that I played well.”

That made her giggle. “Talents. Did I tell you that our chamberlain also taught us how to juggle?”

“Why in the world would a professional criminal be able to do that?”

“It can entertain a crowd and provide distraction while your partner is jimmying the back window.”

He thought. “I do believe the cook has some rolls left over from dinner. I can have them bring some in if you’d like to demonstrate.”

“I think another time might be better.” She relaxed against his side, her damp head resting on her shoulder. “We’re properly married now. We’ve had our first argument.”

“I believe you’re right.” He squeezed. “I’m so sorry, little bird. I didn’t know the last year had been so bad for you.”

“I know. And I shouldn’t have lashed out at you like that.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Is there anything I can do to make things better for you? In Hellaspont?”

He felt one shoulder twitch. “I’ve done my best to be a good ruler, following in Father’s footsteps. The rumors are dying down, despite Pelas’s best efforts.”

“Is that the little toad of a grand magister? Your brother mentioned him.”

“Yes. Also my magecraft tutor. You can understand why I was more than happy to abandon it after Father’s death.” She took another sip of her wine. “Do you know what the worst part of all that was? The look on Mother’s face when she found out about the accusations. It was bad enough to have lost the love of her life, but to find out that her daughter was suspected of his murder? I’d thought she would be on my side like Darius was.” She let out a shuddering sigh. “But Pelas’s accusations found a foothold, even after I was cleared of all charges. From that point on until her death, she avoided me. She’d speak to me if I went to her rooms or if we had to appear in public together, but she never looked at me again. The last time I touched her was in her coffin.” She closed her eyes, eyelashes a sooty shadow against her cheeks. “I didn’t want to watch you turn away from me as well.”

He hugged her again, tighter this time. “I may argue with you, little bird, but I promise I’ll never turn away from you,” he said. “Rest easy in that. I wouldn’t be taking all this trouble to find Lukas if I didn’t want to hear his side of the story. I know it’s slender, but there is a chance he’s innocent in all this.”

She took a deep breath and let it out, relaxing. “You’re a good man, Matthias.”

“I do my best.” He put his own goblet on the side table, then plucked the goblet from her relaxing fingers and placed it next to its twin. “I think we should sleep now, don’t you?”

“Yes, please.”

He eased her down until she was lying flat, pulling the blankets up to her chin. She turned onto her side towards him, giving him one last sad smile before closing her eyes.

He watched her sleep, and wondered how he would be able to protect her with a mountain range in the way.

8

SETTING SAIL

The next morning a sleepy Flavia appeared at the tent flap, Luna on one hip. “Sorry for my lateness, mistress,” she apologized when she saw Danaë sitting on one of the chairs with a plate of breakfast. “Our little one didn’t like the storm last night at all. Kept me up half the night, poor mite.”

Danaë felt a stab of guilt at that. “I’m sorry. Here, let me take her,” she said, putting the plate down and holding out her arms. Flavia transferred the child over with a sigh of relief, turning to the clothes trunk.

With Luna situated on her lap, Danaë noticed Darius’s ambassadorial chain had been looped around the child’s neck. One chubby fist clung to it with a death grip. “I see she still has her favorite toy.”

Flavia pulled out another riding costume from the trunk. “She likes it, and Prince Darius hasn’t asked for it back yet. I don’t think she’s teething, though. She’d be fussing more if that were the case.”

Danaë studied her charge. Luna sucked her free thumb in all apparent contentment, looking none the worse for wear after her restless night. “I have an idea. Why don’t I have her ride with me today?” she suggested. “That’ll give you a chance to get some rest in the wagon.”

Flavia flashed her a grateful smile. “That would be lovely, mistress, thank you. I don’t mind looking after her, but I’m not as young as I was once and these late nights take a toll.”

“That settles it. You get to ride on a horsie today.” She joggled the child on her knee. “What do you say to that?”

Luna popped her thumb out of her mouth. “Yeth!” 

She popped the thumb back in, but her eyes danced with delight.
Not even two and she already loves the beasts. Without a doubt, she’s a Ypresian.

“Mistress?” Flavia stood there, fidgeting with the riding garb. “Forgive me if I’m overstepping myself, but is everything all right? I heard shouting last night. It woke up the tyke.”

Danaë wanted to groan. How much of the camp heard her argument with Matthias before the storm stopped it? “The king and I had a disagreement. We’re both rulers, after all—we have strong views on certain things. We made up afterwards.”

“Ah. That’s all right, then.”

Something nagged at the back of Danaë’s mind, but Luna picked that moment to pop her thumb out of her mouth again and say, “Dan.”

Danaë couldn’t help smiling. “That’s right. Can you say Danaë?”

“Dan!”

“Close enough, I suppose. Has she had breakfast?”

Flavia winced. “I was going to do it after I got you dressed, mistress.”

“My clothes can wait.” She booped Luna’s nose. “Let’s get some sweet grains in you, poppet.”

“Dan!” Luna agreed with a sunny grin.

****

Matthias was busy watching the charming sight of Danaë and Luna riding next to him when Schrader rode back, looking if not happy then less dour than he had for the bulk of the journey. “We’re about an hour from Armede, majesty,” the lieutenant commander said. “You should be able to see it once we cross this last ridge.”

Armede was the border city that filled a variety of positions for Ypres. Customs house, consulate, and trade center, it paired with the city Mykos on the other side of the border, which served the same purpose for Hellas. It was also where they would board a ship for Hellaspont.

“Any reason to stop there?” Matthias asked.

“You’ve received an invitation from the mayor, with his understanding if you don’t have time for a formal visit. If I may, I would suggest we stop in on the way back. It’ll take some time to get everything on board once we get to Mykos. Also, my men said that there’s been no sign of the,” he paused, “individual we’re looking for, so there’s no other reason to stop there.”

Matthias nodded, appreciating Schrader’s discretion. “It’s a good plan. Have my apologies sent to the mayor, with promises to make a formal visit on our return.”

“Yes, majesty.” He nodded to Danaë before wheeling his horse and cantering off.

She urged her horse closer. “I take it we’re not stopping at Armede?”

Matthias shook his head. “We’re late as it is. I hope you don’t mind I won’t be presenting you as their new queen on this trip.”

“They’re already familiar with me. And I have to admit, I’m looking forward to getting home.”

She caught the change in his expression and touched his hand. “You know what I meant, love. Mons is my home now as well.”

“I know.” He curled his fingers around her hand, appreciating the strength in it. “And I’m looking forward to learning more about my new home. You are planning on giving me a tour of Hellaspont, I would hope.”