The Gantean (Tales of Blood & Light Book 1) (6 page)

“You—you wish me to convey a message to Ghilene?” I asked, pleased I had managed to say the entire question with minimal fumbling.

He stood at less than an arm’s distance. Had I dared, I could have run a finger down his cheek.

“Ghilene Entila? Gods, no. I want to speak to you.”

“M—me?”

Costas circled me, his gaze roving in an examination as close and assessing as the slave auctioneer’s in Queenstown, but where the auctioneer’s gaze had contained only scorn, Costas’s felt more like a touch. A caress, even.

Clearly my imagination needed to be curbed.

“Where did you grow up?” he asked.

I sucked a breath. I hated lying, but I feared Ghilene’s anger and this man’s disapproval more. “In the north,” I replied. “In a remote area.”

“Let me see your women’s knife.”

“What?”

Costas gestured at his own sleeve, a furrow between his shapely brows. “Your blade. Your women’s knife. The one you flashed at me in the ballroom. Let me see it.” He pulled my sleeve to expose the knife I’d taken from the party.

“This is a cheese knife,” he said, grinning. “I thought it looked a little strange.”

Heat flared across my cheeks, and not for the first time, I wished for the darker, thicker skin of a typical Gantean.

“I didn’t know what else to do. I don’t have my own knife.”

“No? Why not? Have you no brothers? No lovers?”

I shook my head. “I knew I needed to signal you, so I found a blade that would serve.”

Costas plucked up the cheese knife and flipped it once, twice, before catching it again by the hilt. He laughed. “You’re resourceful. I like that.”

He flicked the cheese knife through his fingers in a complicated maneuver before slipping it up his own sleeve. “You won’t be needing this anymore,” he said without further explanation. He had moved closer to me, closing the space between us until his breath moved tendrils of my hair. Heat emanated from his body, a heat that drew me like a fire in Gantean winter.

He traced his thumb down the side of my cheek and over my jaw. “Gods,” he whispered. “When I first saw you, I thought I’d been struck by the aetherlumo di fieri.”

“The what?” I echoed in a similar whisper.

“Aetherlumo di fieri. It’s an old Amarian expression.”

“But what is it? What does it mean?”

He laughed, but would not meet my gaze. “You do not know?”

I shook my head.

“How can you not know?”

“Ghilene would hate that I admit it, but I know very little about—about this court life.”

“You’re not jesting. You’ve really never heard of it.”

I flushed. “I’m sorry. I’m—”

He put a finger over my lips. “Hush. Don’t apologize. It’s only that to explain embarrasses me, a little. Your innocence, it flummoxes me. To be struck by the aetherlumo di fieri is another way to say you have been hit by passionate feeling, love at first sight. When I first saw you, I felt as though I knew you. As though we were attached to one another already, here.” Still trailing his finger across my cheek, he placed his other hand in the center of my chest, and that firm touch struck me more forcibly than the softer caress: I had not known an emptiness lived on my chest until his palm filled it.

I exhaled. “I—I felt it, too.”

He slid his top hand to cup the back of my skull and brought his mouth over mine, pinning me against him. The heat that had kept me close to him washed over me, and my body, with a will of its own, melted against his, filling in his angles and gaps. Though startled—completely startled—I did not flinch or shy from his advance. The moment was too thrilling, too sudden and complete, to resist.

When Costas drew away, he kept one hand tangled in my hair, pulling a strand and winding it around his finger.

“Good,” he said—though I could not determine to what he referred.

He loosed my hair and pressed his thumb onto my bottom lip. I remained frozen, for along with his heat, he had some further power over me. His gaze buttoned me to him; I could not move, not when he focused his attention on me so exclusively.

“Aetherlumo di fieri,” he murmured. “The term came from the mages, you know. It means the fire of the aetherlights. I never thought I would feel such a thing. I have no magic. But there is no mistaking it, not even for such a hopelessly mundane creature as I am. Your aetherlight calls to mine.” He wrapped his palm around the anbuaq on my neck. “But this must be our secret. Tell no one, not yet.”

“Secret?”’ I echoed, wincing internally. He would think me a halfwit if I could do nothing more than reflect his own words back to him. I was terribly unprepared for any of this.

“Secrets are my truest luxury. They give me the illusion of privacy in an otherwise public life. You—you will be my precious secret.”

“All right.” I could understand secrets, and I could understand why he might wish to have them.

“It isn’t easy for me to snatch private moments like this, you understand.” He took me by the arm and guided me towards the garden’s heavy door. “Tonight I must meet with my father. Tomorrow. Tomorrow we’ll plan better and dally for longer—yes? There’s so much more I’d like to know.”

I nodded, swayed against my better judgment. “Yes. Tomorrow.”

Costas ushered me out the door. “I’ll send you another message to tell you where and when,” he whispered, catching my face in his hands and forcing my gaze to meet his. “Make sure you open it in private.”

The same servant who had brought me to the garden emerged from the hallway’s shadows. “Can you find your own way back to your room?” he asked. His face remained expressionless, but even so, I sensed a trace of disapproval wafting from him.

“Yes, I can,” I lied. “You needn’t accompany me.”

“
I
can’t believe
you couldn’t find my nosegay.” Ghilene pouted as I unwound her braids from the night before. “I wanted to dry it as a memento.”

I had lied—again—and told her I could not find the bouquet, though I had never made it back to the ballroom to attempt a search. If I kept up this stream of lies, I would confuse myself. I had little facility with the Lethemian art of deceit.

“Shall I put in new braids?” I asked.

“Yes, do. It relaxes me and gives you something to do.”

I selected the boar bristle brush. Hers was finer than Gantean hair, which tended towards a coarseness that prevented tangles and made braiding easy work. Ghilene’s hair was more like mine, silky and soft but prone to snarls. I worked carefully, knowing she would reprimand me if I pulled.

“Do you think he likes me?”

“Who?” I had been immersed in the braiding, which put me in a trance-like state.

“Costas Galatien, of course.” Ghilene lifted her green eyes and met my gaze in the looking glass. “I think he likes me. He picked me for his first dance, did you see?”

Her words, spoken in a confident tone, sent a lance through my stomach. If he had affections for her, what did that mean about the secret meeting he and I had shared? What about the aetherlumo di fieri?

“I saw,” I murmured, continuing to braid. My Gantean sisters had often spoken of Lethemian love, usually in scornful terms.
What, did you fall in love like a Lethemian?
we used to tease when one of us developed a tendre. We all knew how silly such a feeling was. Only the Elders decided who could mate with whom.

I chided myself as I braided.
What, have you fallen in love like a cooked fool?
Of course Costas Galatien isn’t for you, not matter how he tries to convince you with fancy words and sayantaq kisses.

“Perhaps Costas doesn’t care if his wife is a bastard,” Ghilene went on, reaching for her largest jewelry box. She rifled through the bracelets and necklaces, moving her head and making my braiding job difficult.

“By the gods!” she screamed, shoving the box away from her and lurching from the seat so that I had to release the strands of her hair. She scrambled away from the vanity, whimpering as she jumped onto the bed.

“What? What is it?” I cried. Had I pulled too hard? Ganteans preferred tight braids that would last, and it would not be the first time I had forgotten to keep my hands soft for her.

“A snake!” she cried, trembling as she tucked both legs beneath her dress. “A—a snake! In my jewel box!”

I raised my brows and leaned over the box. A tiny striped serpent, coiled into a disk no larger than Nautien’s anbuaq, nestled in the corner.

Ghilene squeaked as I reached into the jewel box and gently cupped the creature in my palm.

“Is it a dangerous one?” she quavered.

I lifted the animal to examine it. We did not have snakes on Gante; no cold blooded creature could survive there. “How would I know?”

“Look at the markings!”

“Black with yellow stripes.” The animal roused, unwinding in a graceful flow to wrap itself around my wrist. I held very still.

“Oh my gods! Oh my gods!” shrieked Ghilene, her eyes growing rounder and rounder. She retracted against the headboard. “Kill it! Lili, kill it! Kill it now!” She leapt from the bed and ran into the hall, throwing the chamber door closed behind her.

Ghilene feared the little snake, but it appeared quite harmless to me. I walked onto the sun-porch adjoining Ghilene’s chamber, where cypress trees tickled the railing. The snake did not hesitate—it saw its chance for freedom and unfurled from my arm onto the tree, disappearing into the foliage.

Ghilene did not return to her room, not even for the midday meal delivered on trays at the time the Lethemians called the hour of Amassis. I spent the quiet time straightening the vanity, organizing Ghilene’s cosmetics, making her bed, and brushing down her gowns.

When a knock sounded on the door, I thought it might be Culan come to fetch Ghilene for a walk in the Palace courtyards. He doted on his younger sister and displayed a protective interest in her success at the Brokering. When I opened the door, Costas’s servant stood there, glancing right and left over his shoulders even as he held out an envelope.

“Take it, take it,” he hissed.

I closed my hand around it, and the servant hurried away down the hall.

Before I opened the envelope, I admonished the cooked bit of my soul not to be carried away by Costas’s attention. He and I might have been equal to each other if we were Gantean, but as a handmaiden slave, I had no future with him. Costas knew this as well as I did. I told myself to stuff the damned note under the mattress, but my unruly fingers peeled away the gold-flecked chrysanthemum seal. The note contained only seven words:

Midnight. The opal garden. I’ll be waiting.

I burned the note, fearing Ghilene might find it and recognize the stationary or the handwriting. Costas’s words sent me into a flurry of excited distress. I changed into my plain dark blue dress for the evening festivities and wound my too-short hair into a crown of braids, taking them down more than once to get them just so. Ghilene arrived back as I fitting the last pin into my hair.

“I reported the snake,” she announced. “It could only have gotten in my box by deliberate action. Someone planted it there.”

I blinked in surprise—her theory had not occurred to me. “Who would want to trap a snake in a box?”

“That was an Amarian dwarf adder! The most deadly snake in Lethemia! I suspect Stesichore Ricknagel.”

“Stesichore Ricknagel?” I could not picture the fussy young woman stooping to plant snakes in jewelry boxes. She would have screamed louder than Ghilene at the presence of any sort of animal near her person. She seemed utterly divorced from the natural world—a creation of lace and gold rather than earth and water.

“Yes, Stesichore! She’s jealous of the attention Costas has been giving me, obviously. She’s angling for him.” Ghilene huffed. “Twenty-five years old! Three years older than Costas, and she thinks he’ll want her. When he could have someone like me.”

I understood Ghilene’s point. A younger match would be wiser for a man required to produce an heir.

“But a snake?” It still struck me as unlikely—first, that the Ricknagel girl would have such murderous intentions, second, that if she did, she’d use a snake to achieve them.

Ghilene shrugged. “Stranger things have happened at Brokerings. We act as though the Brokering is a light and joyous thing, but even at King Mydon’s Brokering someone used magic to sway his choice. Marriage to the Galatien heir gives a woman considerable power. Everyone’s watching Costas to see where his attention lands. I always knew if it landed on me I’d need to be careful. The gain is worth the risk. I can manage Stesichore Ricknagel.” Ghilene’s eyes glittered.

I worried, silently, whether the snake, if planted, might have been intended for me as much as for Ghilene. Had someone learned of the secret meeting in the crystal garden?

Ghilene made no further comments about her theories of intrigue, instead creating the usual chaos of garments and shoes and cosmetics as she prepared for the ball. None of her gowns suited; she wanted one in deep purple and her mother had forbidden it as too mature. Her hair was too flat. Which scent appealed the most? We had to open every bottle. Was the kohl lining her eyes too dark? Then she needed her emeralds rather than her amethysts. Finally I had her adorned to her satisfaction in a soft lavender gown with a bodice beaded with hundreds of tiny pearls. She strapped her women’s knife to her arm and pulled a pale lace capelet over her shoulders.

“Maybe tonight I’ll send him a sign,” she said, moving her arm in an arc and allowing the blade to drop into her palm. Without stopping, she circled her hand, flashing the blade at me twice. “That signals my interest in a rendezvous,” she explained. “Do you think it subtle enough?”

I nodded, though I had no grounds on which to judge her motions.

I followed Ghilene to the ballroom, once again carrying the train of her dress.

She reminded me, “Don’t hover around me, Lili. You know how I hate that. Go find some corner to sit in and make yourself scarce. I don’t want you ruining things for me.” Ghilene dove into the crowd. I sought a draped alcove on the edge of the ballroom.

This party appeared even grander than the previous night’s. Gold drapes lined the walls, hiding more alcoves like the one I had chosen. The women’s costumes had grown even more elaborate, though the men still wore their somber dark colors—all except Costas Galatien, in white as usual, glowing like a prize in the center of the room surrounded by fawning guests. Ghilene approached him, curtseying and holding her skirts wide. As she straightened, she performed her practiced signal—I only noticed because I watched for it.

If Costas saw it, he made no response. Instead he turned to Stesichore Ricknagel to escort her to the dance floor for the first set. Ghilene scowled on the sidelines, a look of murderous envy twisting her face as she watched them. If anyone seemed likely to be planting snakes in jewel boxes, it would be Ghilene herself.

From my nook I observed the Lethemians as they drank and flirted.
What a lengthy and overblown way to select a mate.
What did all this pomp prove? What did dancing and fine manners signify to these women, that it should appeal so much to them? Ganteans prized competence and strength in our men, for they had to show their merit in the form of fresh meat and survival. All this sayantaq glitter was only that.
Glitter. Insubstantial.
The dancing continued for a few numbers, and I lost track of both Ghilene and Costas in the whirl.

My partially closed curtain flicked open. Costas slipped into the alcove and pulled the drape fully, closing us into shadows.

“What are you doing all alone here, Lili?”

“Ghilene doesn’t want me hovering,” I answered. “I received your—”

“Don’t speak of it!” he whispered as he sat across from me. “Not even here. Not now.” He tapped his ear as if to indicate someone might be listening. Then he laughed and spoke at full volume. “How thoughtful of you to accede to her demands. I would have thought her so used to being hovered over that she wouldn’t notice.” Costas Galatien took up more space than any man I’d ever met, though he wasn’t large. I’d known plenty of Gantean men with heavier bones and thicker frames. Costas’s sprawl had more to do with attitude than size. He treated space as though it belonged to him, as though the world could be shaped to his desires as easily as a potter molded clay. I pressed into the back of my chair, stirred unwillingly by his intensity.

Costas filled the silence: “I came to offer you my next dance.” He held a hand out to me, palm up, across the small table between the chairs.

“You would not want to dance with a…a handmaiden.” I dropped my voice. “I thought it was supposed to be a secret?” The coiled snake in the jewel box had shown me that Costas’s attention could be dangerous.

“Many handmaidens will dance. There’s nothing improper in it.”

“You should dance with Ghilene. Or Stesichore Ricknagel.”

Costas frowned. “I already did.” His hand remained upturned on the table.

I could not get a full breath. “I’m nothing. I’m no one.”

“Are you refusing me?” He looked as startled at this thought as I was at dancing with him.

“I—is it even allowed?”

“Anything’s allowed when you are with me. I don’t care what they think of it. It’s only a dance. Come.”

Costas laughed. His hand, so still in asking, flashed, catching my wrist. He stood and pulled me to my feet.

“This isn’t a good idea.” I struggled against him as he pushed aside the concealing curtain, but the damage was already done. The entire ballroom’s focus shifted to us.

Costas appeared immune to the attention. “What are you talking about? That dark simple dress makes us a perfect match. Light and dark. No one else matches me so well.”

“I know very little about dancing.”

“Really,” he murmured so only I could hear. “Now that’s interesting. Who doesn’t know about dancing? Who doesn’t carry a women’s knife at a ball? You are quite a mystery, Lili.”

“I don’t want to embarrass you,” I whispered.

“Then don’t embarrass me.”

He dragged me into the dancing crowd, facing me and placing one of my hands on his shoulder.

I recalled the oblong star Tiercel had taught me and managed to step into the figure. “Your note—” I tried again, hoping to give my denial to him in person rather than having to fumble inelegantly with the knife later.

“Hush!” Costas reprimanded, snapping me through the next step rather roughly. I closed my mouth.

The crawling sensation of magic unfurled where our palms met. As always, I had the urge to fling my hand away as the eerie pulse throbbed from my hand to my arm to the center of my body.

“By the gods!” He stared at me, squeezing my hands until they turned white. “You have magic. I can feel it. So many secrets you have, Lili. I want to know them all.”

I made no reply, too embarrassed and upset to think. He looked at me as though I wore no clothes. I flushed.
Concentrate on the star
,
Leila
. Yet the ripple of magic grew, until I imagined a thin cord of my own bloodlight twisting around a similar thread from Costas’s, knotting us together as we danced.

Ferocious scrutiny burned the back of my neck. When Costas and I began the star figure facing a different direction, I saw Jaasir Amar at the edge of the dance floor with a tall man dressed in white mage’s robes. Jaasir’s arms tightened over his chest, his dark blue gaze cutting me like a blade. The creases of dismay only left his face when he looked at Costas. He couldn’t disguise his affection for the prince—or his hatred for me.

Did Jaasir Amar recognize that I was Gantean? Or was it only that Costas had danced with me, and Jaasir’s jealousy knew no bounds? But Costas had danced with many people—every dance, a different partner. Why would anyone attach much significance to a mere dance? My hand slid from Costas’s shoulder. He glided through my blunder, swinging me to his opposite side before he let me go. I curtsied as the last notes of the music hovered in the air. Costas escorted me back to the edge of the dancing arena, where he bowed over my hand and departed, leaving me confused and blushing. He approached Ghilene next, and she sent me one deadly glare as they moved off together.