During her second visit with Lynsey, when it had been clear that the injured woman was not merely grieving, but withdrawn, uncommunicative, Rian had told her just a little of the masked woman Eluned and Eleri had encountered. Rian hadn’t been able to explain the whole situation—a ban she had not enjoyed discovering—but she’d been able to say enough to ease the Alban woman’s confusion, and Evelyn, though he had only the barest idea of what was going on, was clearly determined to help her through her recovery. They had agreed that the three of them would meet in winter, to dance in the snow. Perhaps by then Rian would be able to tell them more.
So far as Rian could tell, the truth of Wrack’s involvement was not going to be released for public consumption. The papers, at least, only mentioned the name as an alias of Dane Dayson. Rian expected she would be told any new details eventually, once her minor exile had run its course.
A double exile, in fact. Makepeace, after their experience in the receiving room, had not come near her, which was in truth the response Rian preferred, though she hoped he would overcome his disinclination before her blood rebelled. And it had not surprised her in the least to be frozen out of the Night Council. It was an easy, non-direct way for Princess Aerinndís to indicate that Rian should not forget her place in future. No doubt, if this foreseeing ran its course, Rian would encounter the Sulevia Sceadu again, and she would be on her best behaviour, and the matter would be forgotten.
All this would pass.
That was the logical, mature response Rian was completely failing to achieve. She had endless nightmares about being dragged underground, followed by very odd dreams about biting. And she thought constantly about the Sulevia Sceadu, analysing every moment of that embrace, marking the fact that the Crown Princess’ heart had been racing as fast as her own, gauging the exact intonation of a single exhalation, and measuring the weight of the lightest touch.
All that was stupid in Rian wanted to take that extremely restrained response, add Rian’s ability to sense emotions, and declare that, whatever else, Princess Aerinndís had shown herself not unattracted. Rian had been so sure. But the Sulevia Sceadu would have a very strong resistence to Rian’s minor abilities, and any feelings in that moment were entirely beside the point given what followed.
The only response to clear rejection should be graceful acceptance. Princess Aerinndís had certainly made clear the rejection, and Rian would achieve the acceptance once she’d found her balance again, and would move on from this obsession with someone out of her reach. It was important to concentrate on the positive things. The children had survived, with no more than a cut on Eluned’s chin. She’d received a note from Felix, assuring her he had safely returned to Rome. The trip to Lutèce would be a balm, guaranteed to buoy her spirits, especially since she no longer had to count every coin. Rian would be properly grateful for the enormity of these gifts, and put aside foolish self-deception.
An approaching river brought her back to the present. She looked from the stone vampire at her head to the blond woman at her feet, and sat up.
“Your Majesty.”
“Dama Seaforth. No, no need to stand. Hurlstone is such a restful place, isn’t it?”
Tanwen Gwyn Lynn was a greyhound lean woman, loose-limbed and direct of gaze. She settled on one of the ruined walls, completely at ease.
“I apologise for not calling on you earlier, Dama,” the Queen said. “The windstorms made the dragons very restless.”
The Sulevia Seolfor’s connection to Prytennia’s three dragons meant that a sizeable portion of her year had to be given over to ‘walking their spines’, an act of honour and reassurance that involved long treks over the countryside.
“Hurlstone is a good place to recover from an ordeal,” the Queen continued, after Rian had politely assured the Sulevia Seolfor that she had nothing to apologise for. “Despite its ruined state, it is greatly loved by the forest. That warm regard is wonderfully beneficial.”
‘Warm regard’ was a good term for the way Queen Tanwen seemed to view Rian. Rian found herself sitting straighter in response.
“Why is it loved by the forest?” she asked.
“The people who built it were…tree children. Similar to the folies. It was so long ago that even in the Great Forest the town has fallen to ruin. A time before humans.” Queen Tanwen lifted her eyes to consider the statue at Rian’s back. “It is so old, this world. Ancient, and full of mysteries.”
Rian turned and gazed up at the features of a girl preserved in stone, and asked a question she had chosen not to ask Makepeace.
“This is Neferure, isn’t it?”
“Of course.”
“There are so few of the Amon-Re line that it seemed the only possibility.” Daughter of Hatshepsu and the reason for vampirism: her mother had begged Amon-Re to heal Neferure, and he had Answered. “I couldn’t understand why she was here.”
“After Hatshepsu went to stone, Neferure travelled through a number of Otherworlds, including the Great Forest, seeking guidance for the choice she would soon be making. To journey to the Field of Reeds, or strive for the heavens. She wanted to better understand the nature of godhood, and even whether the Field of Reeds would have been altered by the changes to Kemet—Egypt—made by the Shu line. It was desert when she ascended, you know, not the tapestry of rivers we know today. And before the desert, the whole of that region had been green and fertile. Neferure’s travels showed her that her long lifetime was an eye blink compared to the world’s. And the gods themselves are young when counted among the stars. And that even stars fade.”
The Queen gazed up at the sun, which was not quite the same sun as the one she served.
“I don’t know what decision Neferure made before she went to rept. I’m not even certain why she raised Heriath before her end. It seems to have been a boon she granted Cernunnos. His service has benefited Prytennia immeasurably, and you have already proven yourself a worthy successor. I came to welcome you, and give you my thanks.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Rian said. It was perhaps foolish to feel so complimented, but Rian found herself close to blushing with pleasure. She paused, working to regain some level of perspective, then added: “You’re the first person outside Lord Msrah that I’ve heard call him Heriath.”
“In the Great Forest, it is safer to name things as they are. And at times I need to remind myself.” The Queen’s pale blue eyes crinkled with laughter. “My family, we grow up with an extra member, one who is snappish, and rude, and oh so very tired, and we think him a Ma’at vampire who knows when we lie, so we return his dismissal with confidences, tell him the things we won’t tell others, because he behaves as if he has seen everything, and finds us dull. We learn his true name when we ascend, and though we already knew he was old it makes us keenly aware of the long line of Suleviae stretching out into the past, for he has served every one of them.”
“You conjure a very effective vision of the years reeling out before me, Your Majesty,” Rian said.
The Queen smiled at her. “We all still march through them one at a time.” She rose, and held out her hand. “Come, you must introduce me to your nieces and nephew. I owe them my thanks as well.”
Conscious of her rather sweat-stained state, Rian allowed herself to be drawn to her feet, and thought Tanwen Gwyn Lynn quietly amused at her embarrassment. Then, on the way out of the grove, the Queen added a titbit of information that made Rian’s eyes widen rather, but she managed to suppress further reaction as Queen Tanwen was more ambushed than introduced to various Tennings and other representatives of Lamhythe.