Quatrain (37 page)

“Princess,” he said. “No magic is powerful enough to make me forget my place.”

I heard Cressida’s hiss of annoyance—clearly she had hoped he would speak more persuasively. I said, “Love is the most powerful magic of all.”

I felt the muscles cord in his arm as his hand clenched to a fist. “It is,” he agreed. “I think it will make me remember what you are determined to forget.”

“I think I will remember it,” I whispered, “if you kiss me.”

He stood there for a long time, looking down at me, immobile as one of those great forest oaks that never tremble no matter what the tempest. Then slowly, as if he was one of those trees just now learning the mechanics of movement, he bent from the waist and gently brushed his lips across mine. I closed my eyes to savor the sensation, and he kissed me one more time, just as softly, holding the contact a second or two longer. When he lifted his head I opened my eyes and smiled up at him, suffused with a sparkling satisfaction.

“Where’s your necklace?” he asked abruptly.

I dropped my hand from his and scowled. “It broke.”

He raised his eyebrows and made no other comment, but his hands went up to the back of his neck, and I realized he was undoing the chain to a gold medallion he always wore. All the castle guards were given such medallions as soon as they were hired. “Put this on,” he said.

He slipped it over my head and fastened the clasp. I felt the smooth disk of the pendant against my skin, warm from contact with his. I pressed my hand across it to absorb that faint heat. “But now you won’t be safe if you cross into Alora,” I protested.

“I’ll bring some other talisman for protection.”

“Come back as soon as you can,” Cressida urged. “Don’t wait another ten days.”

“I’ll try,” he said. He bowed to me, very low, touching his hand against his forehead. “Princess,” he said. “Do not quite forget.”

I
moped around Cressida’s house for the next two days, disinclined to search for more herbs, sew a new dress, learn another dance, or help another aliora construct a flawed and charming house. Sleeping was the only activity that held any appeal, and I loved to curl up on my pile of blankets in the middle of the floor and slumber the hours away. Usually I slept with Orlain’s medallion under my cheek. Whenever I would finally wake, I could feel the flat round indentation in my skin.

On the third day, Royven arrived just as I sat up, yawning, from an afternoon nap. He tilted my chin up and inspected my face. “I didn’t think that was possible,” he said.

“What?”

“Humans never develop an antipathy to gold. But I think you are.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Your cheek. It looks so red.”

“I was sleeping on Orlain’s medallion.”

“Did it burn your skin? Does your face feel hotter where it touched you?”

I rubbed my fingers across the affected patch. “Maybe. Just a little.”

“How about your bracelets? Are they burning your arms?”

I investigated the flesh along my wrists, which bore the reddened impressions of the metal circlets. “My arms were pressed against the bracelets while I was sleeping,” I explained. I had to admit I was slightly uneasy, however. Now that Royven mentioned it, each piece of gold felt a little warm to the touch.

“Maybe that’s all it is,” he said, giving me a reassuring smile.

“I’ll pay attention,” I promised. “If it gets any worse—”

“Oh—I’m sure it won’t,” he said. “As I say, I’ve never met a human who couldn’t handle gold. Jed Cortay has lived in Alora for twenty years, and no metal ever bothers
him
.”

But it was hard to get the idea out of my head. That night, instead of sleeping with the medallion, I laid it carefully beside me on the ground, and I slipped it back on first thing in the morning. The bracelets, too. But I could feel them all through the day, chafing my skin. I pulled out the medallion and let it rest on top of my dress, but I could still feel its heat through the layer of silk. The bracelets felt so warm that I finally had to remove them altogether.

“I could make a pouch for you,” Royven suggested. “A little bag you could slip over the medallion. That would help protect your skin. If you still want to wear the pendant.”

“I do,” I said firmly, though I was having a hard time remembering why. “Thank you. I would love that.”

He wove a small bag out of lemongrass and orchids, and the wide, flat disk fit perfectly inside. Its coolness was an instant relief against my skin; soon I forgot I was even wearing the pendant.

A day later I forgot to put the pendant on.

“Let’s go walking through the forest to see what we can find,” Royven suggested.

I put my hand in his and said, “Let’s.”

We were gone most of the day, though we accomplished very little. Now and then I noticed a particularly beautiful flower or useful plant, and I plucked these to bring back to Cressida. A few times, Royven spotted sturdy or well-seasoned branches that met some construction need, and he bundled up about half a dozen of them and slung them over his shoulder. We held hands, of course, as we strolled through the woods, and now and then we paused to trade kisses. His lips burned as hot as gold. I closed my eyes and melted into his embrace.

It was late afternoon when we reluctantly retraced our steps to Cressida’s house. She was waiting outside for us, more nervous and impatient than I had ever seen her.

“
There
you are,” she exclaimed, coming between us with such force that our clasped hands loosened and fell. “Quickly—you must come with me to Rowena’s.”

I was tired and I had been looking forward to another nap. “What’s wrong?” I asked through a yawn.

She took my arm and pulled me forward, not answering directly. “Come with me.”

I glanced at Royven, who shrugged and fell in step behind us.

As we drew closer to Rowena’s, I could see a small crowd gathered before the open house. The clattering, humming language of the aliora rose from this group in an orchestral cacophony that held a note of distress. I caught Jaxon’s voice, louder than the rest, expostulating with someone, and Rowena’s, low and soothing. With much less than her usual courtesy, Cressida tugged me through the assembled aliora until I was face-to-face with Rowena.

A young man stood before her, his back to me.

“Orlain,” I breathed.

He heard my voice and jerked around to face me. “Princess,” he said, stepping closer and taking both my hands in his. “The uprising has ended. I’ve come to take you home.”

“What uprising?” I said.

His hands tightened on mine. “The mutinous armies led by Dirkson of Tregonia,” he said, speaking slowly and distinctly. “They have been disbanded. There was another quick encounter between the rebels and the royals, and the counterfeit young prince Brandon behaved with utter cowardice. A handful of loyal men chased him off the field of battle, too afraid to even draw his sword. No one would follow such a despicable prince, and Dirkson could not hold his troops together. It is safe for you to return. Soldiers have already ridden for Cotteswold to fetch Keesen.”

“Who is Keesen?” I said.

Now his grip was painful. “Your younger brother. You love him very much.”

“It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen him,” I said.

“You’ll be with him as soon as we get back to Castle Auburn.”

“But I’m not going to Castle Auburn,” I said. “I want to stay here.”

“That’s what I told you she would say!” Jaxon exclaimed. “She’s happy in Alora.”

“Her life is elsewhere,” Orlain replied, not bothering to look at Jaxon. “And my duty is to return her to that life.”

Rowena spoke up in her musical voice. “Shouldn’t Zara be allowed to choose what she wants? We would never bind any human against her will, but we gladly extend a welcome to any who wish to stay. And even in this short time, all of us have grown fond of her. We wish her to remain with us.”

Orlain was just watching me with an urgent intensity, as if willing some privileged knowledge of his own to be visible in his eyes. “You were born at Castle Auburn,” he said. “Your first word was ‘princess.’ Your bedroom is decorated with yellow roses and a painting of Bryan Ouvrelet that you stole from the south gallery. Your favorite cat is thirteen years old, blind in both eyes, and lame, but you will not allow anyone to advance the notion of putting him down. You love to waltz, and whenever you take the dance floor, all the young men of the kingdom stare after you, wishing they could be your partner. I kissed you the last time I saw you and you seemed to like it. If you come with me, I will kiss you again.”

“I wish you
would
kiss me,” I said. “But not if it means I have to leave Alora.”

“No matter what I do,” he said, “you must leave Alora.”

Jaxon had lost his patience; he charged over and shouldered between us, making Orlain drop my hands. “She doesn’t want to go with you. How plain can she make it?” my uncle blustered. He wrapped one arm around my shoulder and seemed to be protecting me from unwanted attention, but I was a little sorry. I liked the feel of my hands in Orlain’s.

Orlain turned to face Rowena, his hands open and extended in a gesture of supplication. “I know you want to keep her,” he said quietly. “I know you want to keep any human who wanders into your path. Let her go. I will remain in her place.”

Rowena put her hand up, gentle as mist, and brushed it across his face. I saw him flinch and then tremble, but he did not pull away. “There is no need for such sacrifices,” she murmured. “You need not be parted. Both of you may stay.”

“At least one of us will be riding back toward Auburn before nightfall,” Orlain said. I wondered how he could resist her touch. Most men would be too dazed to speak once Rowena trailed her fingertips across their skin.

“Then I am afraid it will be you,” Rowena told him, dropping her hand. “Zara has made her choice.”

I fidgeted in Jaxon’s embrace. “Don’t go just yet,” I begged Orlain. “Stay the night at least. Maybe—maybe in the morning you will change your mind.”

He turned to me again; his face was set. “Nothing will change my mind,” he said. “I must leave—and now.”

Wistful, I pulled free of Jaxon’s arms. “Will you not kiss me good-bye anyway? Even though I will not leave with you?”

I was a little surprised but more delighted when he gave one decisive nod. “I will,” he said. “But I must first wash away the dust of the road, for my journey was hasty, long, and dirty.”

He lifted a small water bag to his mouth and drained the contents in a few quick swallows. Then he took two steps to my side, swept me into his arms, and laid a desperate, grieving kiss upon my mouth.

I tasted winter in his kiss, a season that never comes to Alora; his water bag must have been filled with the melt of a thousand snowflakes. I tasted a splash from the great fountain that plays incessantly in the courtyard of Castle Auburn. I tasted cider from Cotteswold, spun sugar from Faelyn. I tasted nectar from the rare red orchid that grows only in Chillain.

I tasted gold. Pounded and powdered and poured into a potion and transferred to my lips by a single sweet kiss.

I cried out and broke free, clapping my hands to my cheeks and staring around me in alarm. Orlain called my name—Jaxon and Royven and Rowena called my name—the gathered aliora chittered and cooed and reached for me with their attenuated fingers. I backed away from all of them, trembling with heat, flushed with memory. I felt as if I had been flung back into my body after a week of fever, as if I had reentered my own mind after a period of delirium.

I was the Princess Zara, my country had been at war, and my place was with my family.

“Orlain,” I whispered. “Take me home.”

There was an outcry, of course, and sweet pleadings from Royven and Rowena. Jaxon planted himself in front of me and took turns wheedling and arguing about how I should stay just another night and see how I felt about my decision in the morning. But Cressida had already bustled back to her place to gather up my clothes and trinkets, and Orlain wasn’t taking any chances. He had produced another water bag filled with the selfsame elixir and bid me to drink the whole thing down. With every taste my past became clearer; with every swallow I grew more resolute.

“At least promise you will return to visit us—someday very soon,” Royven was saying as Orlain and I set out on the path toward the Faelyn River. We were trailed by half a dozen aliora, but I figured none of them would actually cross the border.

I laughed. “That would be a terrible promise to make! Alora is a dangerous place to visit.”

“You could come to us
armored
in gold,” he suggested. “You could drink nothing but your mother’s potions night and day.”

“I am not strong enough to resist you—any of you,” I said regretfully. “I do not think I would be safe from your blandishments if my very bones were made of gold.”