Then she had to ask me when Father Urtho was coming back, and if he was with me here.That had given him a serious wrench, although he'd managed to cover it without her noticing.
So far as Kechara knew, her "Father" was still alive, somewhere, doing something vague but important. No one had ever tried to tell her anything to the contrary. The deception made her happy, after all—and in a sense, that was probably just what Urtho, or Urtho's spirit, wasdoing.
Besides, no one was entirely sure she understood what death meant—and if she didn't know, no one wanted to be the one to tell her.
Ihad to tell her he wasn't with me, and that I didn't know when he'd be back.Sketi, I'm not altogether certain that I'm going to be back. How could I tell her that?
He had tried to prepare her—if anyone could prepare simple little Kechara for such a terrible revelation—that sometimes people went away and didn't come back again. He'd meant Urtho, but—well—he could only hope and pray that it wasn'tgoing to apply to him....
Damn it, it's not going to apply to any of us!
Amberdrake yawned hugely, then apologized, covering his mouth with his hand. "Skan, I'm tired, and I'm going back inside; frankly, the less I show of myself, the more people are going to talk, and that's good for us right now. So I'm going to get some sleep. The Morning Court can proceed without me. I wouldn't be popular there today anyway. But tell Leyuet about this as soon as you can."
Skan ruefully regarded the arrow in his talons. "Given that the skies seem to be more than a bit dangerous today, I probably ought to do the same, at least as far as going back inside and not doing any more flying today goes," he admitted. "I wish I could have spotted the archer. I think I'm strong enough now to lift a struggling body—or a dead one. Just—watch your back for me. Tell Gesten about this."
"Gesten already knows," said a rasping, humorless voice from inside the room, in tones of disgust. "You didn't think you'd get away with me not finding out, did you?"
"Hardly," Skan snorted. "You are the Emperor of all busybodies, the King of eavesdroppers. I would never even dream of having a conversation you didn't manage to overhear. I hold all my conversations assuming you will be lurking behind a curtain or beneath a piece of furniture." Then, since he seldom got the last word in any such exchange with the hertasi, he took advantage of the situation and vaulted lightly over to the next balcony, his own, before Gesten could manage to form a reply.
Behind him, he heard Gesten giving Amberdrake a healthy piece of his mind, and chuckled with relief. Now there is one danger I amglad to avoid! Gesten's tongue is worse than all the arrows in the Haighlei arsenal!
Amberdrake woke for the second time that morning, this time when Winterhart came back in from attending Morning Court in her new role as Consort-To-Be. He stretched with care, and sat up, feeling much the better for the few extra hours of sleep.
She had dressed very carefully for Morning Court, and the transformation she had undergone while he was asleep was amazing. She looked spectacular.
The amber silk gown she wore had been altered slightly; enough to make it into something of a compromise between a northern costume and Haighlei robes. Bands of geometric applique in white and gold had been applied to the wide sleeves and the hem, although there was no matching band at the collar the way a Haighlei costume would have been adorned. Instead, the gold and amber Betrothal Necklace took the place of such a decoration. Her hair had been put up in an intricate arrangement of braids with one of the Lion Lilies nestled in the front, and she wore bracelets matching the Betrothal Necklace around her wrists and a belt of amber plaques carved in lions' heads at her waist. She looked like a statue of marble and golden amber, and not human at all.
Some of the strain she was under showed in the serene expression she wore; the worse she felt, the more like a statue she looked.
"So it's official?" he asked, as she sat down on the side of the bed beside him. "Is that where the bracelets and belt came from?"
She nodded and sighed, fingering the heavy gold of the bracelets. "The rumor is that I have abandoned you for your terrible crimes, even though nothing has been proved against you yet. I, of course, have said nothing. We've already taken enough of my belongings over to the other suite that it will look credible—and I took Windsong with me, too. Or, to be precise, I moved her into the nursery with Tadrith and Keenath." She eyed him apprehensively as if she expected him to object. "She'll be safer there, in case this person gets the bright idea to go after the children."
His stomach turned over at the merest suggestion that harm could come to their daughter. Gods. That was a possibility I didn't want to think of. I'd better warn Skan.
He smiled wanly, though, and tried to make light of the situation. "Well, at least I'll be able to sleep late in the morning, now, and she'll have her two playmates from the moment she opens her eyes. Frankly, I pity anyone trying to get in at her—especially if they're trying to get past Makke."
He meant it as a joke, but she only raised an eyebrow, and said quite seriously, "So do I. There's more to Makke than you think."
He raised his own eyebrow. One mother recognizes and trusts another, I suspect. I must remember never to underestimate maternal protectiveness. Or Makke, for that matter."So, from now on, officially you are no longer associating with me." He couldn't help the feeling of depression and abandonment that gave him, though he tried not to show it. That was the one part he really hated about all this. He'd been alone for so very long, and then found Winterhart—he'd never thought he'd have to face an empty bed again.
Now she dropped her mask of serenity. From the bereft expression in her face, she felt the same as he did about any kind of separation—
That gave him a perverse kind of comfort. It made him feel better, knowing that she would be as lonely as he, it made him feel needed and valuable. Did she know that? She might.
It was a good thing, though, that she was a consummate actress. He knew her, and knew without a shadow of a doubt that she would never betray how she felt in public. She had managed a much more difficult task in her past—of completely hiding who and what she was from people who might have recognized her.
And it is just as well that I am as certain of her as she is of me, or when we met in public I would have terrible doubts.He laid his hand on hers as her eyes darkened with unspoken unhappiness. He sensed her heart growing as heavy as his own.
She squared her shoulders and tried to shake her mood off with brave words, as he had known she would. "It won't be forever. And at least if I have to avoid you in public, things can be the same in private." She bit her lip, and he tightened his hand on hers. "In case you are curious, Shalaman has been very sweet, attentive, and entirely brotherly. I doubt anyone else has noticed the difference, but he treats me as if I were a sacred object, and not for such profane hands as his."
"And you are conducting yourself as if you were not only his affianced, but had lost all faith in me." He smiled as she nodded, comforted no end, as much by the fact that she knew to give him that comfort as by the words themselves. "That has to be feeding right into our nonfriend's plans. The more he can sow dissension in our own ranks and make us avoid each other, the more chance he has of implicating all of us in one or another of these murders."
Well, the worst was over; the actual acknowledgment of the separation, the physical fact of it. He found his mind was working again, thinking of possible parameters, now that the emotion was out of the way. In a curious way, he realized that he was enjoying this, despite all the danger, implicit and real, despite the artificial rift between him and his beloved. Skan might be the strategist, but hewas turning out to be a more than adequate coordinator.