My eyes went to the hand-calligraphed invitation I held again. Seliora looked over at it from where she sat beside me, attired in another formal outfit of shimmering black and red, and I turned it for her to see, not that we both hadn’t perused it more than a few times.
YOUR PRESENCE IS REQUESTED
AT THE WEDDING OF
IRYELA D’ALTE
AND RYEL [KANDRYL D’SUYRIEN-ALTE] D’ALTE
RYEL ESTATE, L’EXCELSIS,
THE TWENTY-FIRST OF IANUS
AT HALF PAST SIXTH GLASS.
“I still say that’s a rather odd way of describing her husband-to-be,” said Seliora.
“It’s the only possible way. She cannot keep the holding without marrying another High Holder, and whoever she weds must take the holding name.”
“So he can’t be Suyrien’s heir?”
“He could be, if he were the oldest, but he’s the younger son. But it does resolve any inheritance problems for the High Councilor. In fact, his younger son may end up with more than his own heir-and sooner.”
“Rhenn . . . was this all Ryel’s doing?”
I shook my head. “No. Much of it was Iryela’s. She played her father, her brothers, and me in order to gain the freedom and power she felt she should have had through her abilities. I wouldn’t be surprised if she wasn’t looking for a possible tool when she asked me to dance with her back at the Harvest Ball.”
For a long moment, there was silence. Finally, she looked into my eyes. “How long have you known?”
“I had wondered, but when the invitation arrived, I knew.”
Seliora waited for me to explain.
“At the Autumn Ball, she had just danced with Kandryl when I asked her to dance. She revealed more than she should have about Ryel’s, Dulyk’s, and Alynat’s activities, but that could have been resentment and knowing that I was someone who could never really tell anyone in a way that could hurt her-except what she said about Kandryl. She said that he was very sweet and had a very redeeming quality. I asked her if that quality was being willing to accede to her wishes and desires, and she replied by saying that he was sweet.”
“She plotted it all out, then, possibly even pushing her father to seek revenge on you for blinding Johanyr and knowing that you would destroy Alynat, Ryel, and Dulyk.”
“I doubt she had to push her father too much.” Not with the arrogance I’d seen in Ryel.
“And you . . . how can you? After everything?” Seliora shook her head, even her whole body. “I cannot imagine . . .”
“I disagree. You can imagine. She is smarter, more beautiful, more talented, and, despite her horrible plotting, more evenhanded than any of the men in the family. I met them all, if in passing in some instances, and not a one of them had a single redeeming quality. She did not wish to be married off and minimalized . . . or suffer a fatal accident if she could not be married off. Exactly what were her options, given her position?”
“And we’re going to her wedding? You’re going to her wedding?”
“What are our options if we wish to end the game?” And it had been a game, a deadly game. I could have claimed I’d been a player, but I’d been played, as had Master Dichartyn and the Collegium. The only two real players had been Grandmama Diestra and Iryela, and in a sense, both had won, although Iryela had lost far, far more than she realized. I had the feeling that Maitre Poincaryt might have understood some of it, at the end. He had certainly taken the opportunity to play me against the High Holders.
Seliora nodded, as I knew she would. “I can’t say that I like it.”
“Nor do I, but we don’t deal the plaques. At best, we can but play what we have.”
Charlsyn slowed the coach, then guided it through the massive ironwork gates, calling out, “Master Imager Rennthyl and Mistress Seliora D’Shelim.”
He eased the coach up the well-swept stones of the driveway and under the portico. There, a footman in black and silver stepped forward to open the coach door and to extend a hand to Seliora.
When I stepped out in my black formal wear with poison testing strips inside my jacket and joined Seliora, I saw a black and silver coach stationed on the far side of the circle. At that moment, I recalled where I had seen that coach before-when I had first come to Imagisle and had watched an imager met coolly by a blond beauty. That had been Iryela meeting Johanyr, and now I understood the coolness I had seen.
We had taken but three or four steps into the entry when an older man, wearing a black velvet jacket with silver piping over a silver shirt and black trousers, stepped forward, inclining his head deeply. “Master Rhennthyl, Mistress Seliora, if you please, Mistress Iryela would like a word with you both before the ceremony.”
We nodded, and followed him down a side corridor. I did continue to maintain full shields over both of us. Nothing was settled until it was settled.
He stopped at the door at the end of the side corridor. “Master Rhennthyl and Mistress Seliora.”
“Have them enter.”
The functionary opened the door and gestured for us to go in.
The chamber was a sitting room, decorated in pale blues and silvers. Iryela turned from where she stood before a full-length mirror. She wore a silver gown, but one trimmed at the hem in thin lines of blue and green, and her bride’s vest was a silvered green.
For a moment, I was most conscious of standing between two beauties-one dark and one fair-and both dangerous, if in differing ways.
Iryela stepped forward, and then inclined her head first, a complete breach of High Holder etiquette. “Master Rhennthyl, I am pleased that you are here, and I trust that your acceptance of the invitation signifies what I hope will be a long and close relationship between our families. I would not wish ever for my family to incur your displeasure.”
I inclined my head to her, then looked directly into the hard depths of those blue eyes. “My lady Ryel-and you merit that honor on your own, regardless of custom-we will treasure that friendship, and I would that it had not cost all so very dearly. Even so, or especially so, you have my greatest respect, as well as my friendship.”
Her smile was unforced, yet gentle, so much like the sun struggling from behind clouds after a spring shower. Even so, I sensed the cold steel behind that unfamiliar warmth. “You have acted with restraint and honor, and you are always welcome.” There was the faintest emphasis to the word “always.” Iryela’s eyes turned to Seliora. “You also played a part in this, I know, equally honorable, and you and your family also have my respect, and I would wish you for a friend and a sister.”
The last words did surprise me, yet they did not seem to surprise Seliora.
Seliora returned the smile. “I would be honored to be either, or both, as you wish.”
“I would like both . . . very, very much.” Her smile actually appeared nervous. “Thank you both so much for being here.”
“We’re pleased to be here.”
“Fahyl will escort you to your place in the family anomen.”
Seliora and I both inclined our heads, then turned and left.
Back in the corridor, Fahyl bowed again, then said, “If you would . . .”
We followed him to the family anomen-at the end of the north wing of the chateau on the main level-a space larger than some public ones used by worshippers of the Nameless. While the anomen was without ornamentation, as were they all, the stonework of the walls was precise and perfect, and the joins in the polished floor tiles were nearly indistinguishable.
Fahyl led us to the front of the anomen, just a few yards back from the low stone dais, and had us stand on the left side, exactly in line with High Councilor Suyrien and his wife, who stood on the right. “Once the ceremony is over,” Fahyl said, “the guests leave in order and process to the grand salon, where they are announced. You will be the last to leave, and the last to be introduced in the grand salon, before the bride and groom.”