Part 7

Time passes, as it always does. There were more evening audiences with the young scions of the houses. There were more lessons in magic, and exercise with Jordan. There were more audiences in the throne room with Queen Meralina. But Catheryne felt strangely that Jordan had withdrawn from her, had sealed himself off. Of course, he was never anything but polite and formal with her, calling her Lady Gabriele or Your Highness or any of those other honorifics--but that was really the problem, Catheryne thought. There was nothing else between them--not the occasional, halting sharing of pasts and futures; not the restrained, dry banter with Moya Tilmitt. Just... Pure, cold professionalism.

Even Davina could see it. "Catheryne, what did you do to him," she hissed, pulling her aside one night. "When you sent him alone I felt like we actually made some headway--that he was beginning to open up a little. Now all the windows are shut and the doors are barred. What happened?"

"I don't know," Catheryne said helplessly. "He doesn't-- I don't think he knows about that."

"About what?" Davina asked. And so of course Catheryne had to tell her about the night with Paitr.

"You did what??" Davina said. "And this was that very night? Catheryne, that was three weeks ago and you haven't told me yet?"

"I haven't told anyone yet," Catheryne said unhappily. "Except maybe Moya Tilmitt. He knows I was... I was with someone... But I don't think he knows who."

"Why haven't you?" Davina giggled. "How was it? You should've told me immediately! Isn't he dreamy? Paitr Domenicos! How was it?"

"It was..." Catheryne hesitated. Then she admitted to Davina what she hadn't yet dared to admit to herself. "It wasn't very good."

"Why not? Is there something wrong with him? He's only twenty-one, isn't he?--he hasn't already gone flabby, has he? Or is his tree only a twig?"

Catheryne reflected. She'd been dodging this path of thought for nearly a month, but now it opened to her without bother. "He thought only of himself. He just wanted to leave his sap and go."

"So you didn't like it," Davina said.

"What was there to like?" Catheryne asked.

"And... Does Jordan know about this," Davina asked.

Catheryne blinked at her friend. "Jordan?"

"Yes," Davina said, her eyes direct and level. "Jordan. Or Marcus Demitri if you prefer. Your First Lance. The man who is going to get in your way for the rest of your life. That Jordan."

"How did you know his private name?" Catheryne whispered. Had she accidentally spilled it? Loduur only knew how many times it had nearly slipped off her tongue in the past few months--

"He told me, silly," Davina said, beaming.

Catheryne breathed a sigh of relief. "Kyrei be blessed. At least I didn't slip it."

Davina eyed her critically. "Why would it bother you if you did?"

"Well... Look at him." They both glanced down the hall, where Jordan sat in polite conversation with Davina's parents. "He's so... I mean, he's so good at hiding. He can be polite, he can be formal, he can even be personable, but... He doesn't let things go much. And you know what power there is in a name. It'd be betraying his confidence to tell someone he didn't want told."

"So," Davina said, "it would bother you because it would hurt his feelings."

Feeling suddenly embarrassed, Catheryne laughed. "Well, right, if he, you know, has feelings."

"What's Paitr's private name," Davina asked.

"I can't tell you that!" Catheryne exclaimed.

"Because you're keeping it a secret or because you don't know," Davina said.

Catheryne said nothing.

"Catheryne, if this is bothering you, maybe you should listen to yourself," Davina said. "Paitr hasn't shown a lot of regard for your feelings. But you've shown regard for Jordan's. He likes you, you know that."

"I know it."

"And I can almost guarantee you, Catheryne: he knows. And that he closed up like this the night you slept with Paitr."

Catheryne thought. When had it started? About... Yes, about three weeks ago.

She covered her face with her hands. "Well, now you know why I haven't told you about it yet. What a disaster. Jordan's going to hate me."

"Only if you keep him hanging like this," Davina said. "You need to talk to him, Catheryne. You need to tell him what happened. That you made a mistake. Then he'll open up again and maybe we can get some actual conversation out of him."

"Easier said than done," Catheryne said. "I don't see why he was that hurt anyway. It's not like we were promised to each other or anything. Loduur's depths, he even told me we shouldn't get involved. But now he's..." She trailed off. Men. Such bizarre creatures. One was everything she'd ever wanted and yet nothing she'd ever want, and the other was... Purely incomprehensible. "I wish he'd make up his mind."

"Maybe he will, if you do," Davina said.

That had been almost a month ago and Catheryne still had not managed to screw up her courage and confront him. And she discovered something about herself as she did: she, too, was scared of loss. She had already been rejected by Paitr, in some way--whom she had not seen since that fateful night; she didn't want to see him. Wasn't sure she could trust herself near him. But she didn't want to lose Jordan either. Was scared that the divorce would be complete--that he would turn to her, "No, milady, you needn't apologize, there was no need for concern," all in that flattened monotone voice he seemed to be so enamored of lately--no, that would be too much to be borne. Better to keep silent. Better not to find out. Better to hope.

And now today was a special day--Jordan's nameday, his sixteenth. Catheryne's own fifteenth had passed while they traveled home from the Spring Lands, nearly three months ago. But a fifteenth wasn't as significant as a sixteenth--once you had sixteen years, you were, by tradition at least, old enough to marry. It was not a hard-and-fast rule by any means, of course; some, like Catheryne's own parents, had waited for some years before tying the knot, and others got married earlier. It was simply a custom, some vestige of earlier times and ways.

Jordan, of course, had been given fine new clothes to wear, probably tailored specially for the occasion; Jordan, of course, did not wear them. He dressed in the silver and black of the Guardsmen. Catheryne wondered which fool had commissioned him the new suit; she was pretty sure Jordan hadn't asked for it himself. Catheryne was in another tablecloth, but she had had a word with the seamstresses and at least this time her dress was fit for a small table instead of a banquet hall.

It was, of course, a public event; there must be honor to the First Lance, even if no one particularly liked him. Everyone was there: the Queen, her father, Moya Tilmitt, all the ministers, Master Talten, Master Jaine, Mistress Daravon, Mistress Stelmarine... And of course Master Paitr Domenicos, whom Catheryne was not particularly pleased to see. But she had no choice in the matter--nor, really, had Jordan. This was no private gathering, that they could invite people to at their discretion; these affairs were public, and any Eretrian at all, from the highest noble to the meanest beggar, could come into the palace and be treated with hospitality. It was, again, custom. This one, at least, Gabriele thought she saw the wisdom in: in welcoming everyone, the Queen reaffirmed her love and loyalty to the people. Gabriele thought it was wise and kind-hearted. Catheryne wished some of them would take a bath.

Jordan was moody and ill-tempered that day--which, of course, could be considered rather usual; Catheryne was pretty sure she was the only one who had picked up on it. She wasn't entirely sure what had caused it; in fact, she had no real idea at all. They'd had lessons that day but nothing had gone particularly wrong in them; and she'd seen him act much more polite at social functions before. Why was he all put out now?

"Gabriele," someone breathed at her elbow. She recognized the voice, the hands. Paitr. "How are you, my love?"

Please don't call me that. "I'm all right, thank you, Paitr, but, I'm a little bit busy now. If you'll excuse me..." And for that reason she missed the look of utter confusion on his face as she left.

Jordan was being congratulated by an elder couple, the Lord and Lady Mirastelan. "Imagine," Lord Mirastelan was saying. "Your whole life ahead of you, young man. I remember what it felt like to be your age. I thought I could conquer the world," he chuckled.

"I have no worlds to conquer," Jordan snapped. "Only a grave to fill. If you will excuse me." With that he marched off.

Catheryne covered her face in her hands and followed him. "I say," said the Lady Mirastelan behind her. "Has he always been so... Snippy?"

"Jordan, what's going on?"

"Nothing you need concern yourself with, my lady. Excuse me."

"Hmm, not very well house-broken, is he? Of course, it's only been eight months..."

"Yes, well, I prefer followers who don't trail me around like a lost puppy, Mistress Daravon."

"Oh, well. So do I! It's the breaking them that's the enjoyable part. Isn't it, my dear David?"

"Mmmmm," said David Alckerson.

Catheryne controlled her expression with an effort. "Excuse me."

Davina was conversing with Cardinal Demarcaine and Lady Fentrin, but she came away obediently when Catheryne beckoned; and, because she was Davina, she did so with a laugh and a smile. "Oh, dear; my monarch calls. Yes, my princess, I'm coming!" And Catheryne laughed too--a single bark of nervous frustration.

"Davina, you have got to help me. Jordan's in a snit over something, Paitr's here and I think he wants to get his hands on me, and--"

"Have you told Jordan yet," Davina asked.

Catheryne fidgeted. "No."

"Well, then, no wonder!" Davina exclaimed. "Do you realize that you could've solved both those problems with about five minutes of conversation? Kyrei's hands. No wonder he's in a snit. He's turning sixteen, Catheryne, it's the age of marriage, of course he's thinking about you. Who else would he be thinking of?"

"But-- But... But what if... He--"

"Had turned you down?" Davina finished. "Well, at least there wouldn't be that wall between you! And you could hide from Paitr with him. Catheryne, you have no one to blame for this but yourself."

Catheryne glared at her. "You are not helping."

"Who is that he's talking to now, anyhow," Davina asked, pointing. "I've never seen that man before."

Catheryne glanced over--and then again, surprised. "That's... Bron Wynngarde," she said. "He's another Night Blade. Jordan was asking him for help with..." She glanced at Davina.

"With finding who killed his parents?" Davina finished.

Catheryne gaped. "What exactly did you do to him? He told you all his secrets!"

Davina beamed. "That's my great talent. I open up my friends like books."

Catheryne laughed.

"How far along do you think he is?" Davina asked.

"Is what?"

"Is in finding out who killed his parents, silly!"

"Well... I don't know, it isn't exactly something we discuss." Certainly not nowadays. "The day I was... With Paitr, we went to meet Master Wynngarde for the first time, and he promised information as soon as he could get it, but I don't know if he's gotten any yet, much less if Jordan has received it."

"Ah."

"It was smart of him to come. Actually, they were worried about passing messages to each other, because neither of them can exactly just walk up to the other and start chatting. This way they can meet inconspicuously."

"Why don't you talk about it?"

"Well, because... I don't know. I think... I think he doesn't want me involved in that. Because, I mean, you know, he's going to, he's going to kill the people who got his parents. Just... Do them in in cold blood. I think he doesn't want me involved in that. And also, he's... He's just so sure that... He's going to die, you know? How do you face that? I can't. He gets so bleak when he thinks about it, he gets so..."

"Like now," Davina observed.

"Yes. Exactly." Catheryne sighed. "Like now."

"I wonder what Master... Wynngarde? Wynngarde. I wonder what he's telling him."

"I don't know," said Catheryne. "It may also have something to do with that... With whatever it is has been killing people around the city. Jordan asked him to investigate that as well, and he might have brought news."

"What is the news on that," Davina asked.

"Not a whole lot," Catheryne said. "Jordan says he's moving up the ranks of political power, or at least affluence: first a poor grocer's wife, then an innkeeper's wife from the Mid-district, and then a Palace servant. We think the next victim may be from one of the noble houses."

Davina shuddered.

"And then... Moya Tilmitt used a spell, which... He said something about seeing into the person's heart. Whoever it is, thinks he's getting stronger by doing... What he does."

"Why?" Davina said. "Why does he think that?"

Catheryne gave a bitter laugh. "We don't know. Light of the Skies, it'd be so much easier if we did."

"I mean, what could possibly make someone stronger by doing--"

"Wait," said Catheryne. She clutched Davina's arm to silence her.

"What?" Davina said. "What's going--"

"Someone's touching the Flow," said Catheryne. "Someone near--" She looked around. The only Gifted she could see nearby were Jordan and Moya Tilmitt, both of whom seemed as confused as she was. "Excuse me a minute."

They all reached Father and the Queen at the same time. "Forgive me for-- Well, forgive us for interrupting, Your Highness, but-- My lord, are there any of... Kind-mine in the vicinity right now?"

"No, not that I am aware of," said Father. He chafed his arms with his hands. "Most of the Gifted tend to stay away from these functions, and... I think, after we exposed Gabriele and Marcus, many of them may have left to... Avoid a hostile backlash. Why do you ask?"

"What spell is it," Jordan asked.

"I have no idea," said Moya Tilmitt. "I've never felt anything quite like it."

"Is there trouble," Father said, his hand on his sword.

"I... Am not sure, my lord," said Moya Tilmitt, squinting into the distance. "Let me... Excuse me. Let me investigate. I'll report to you as soon as I have an answer."

"He has no weapon," Queen Meralina said. "Will you be safe?"

"Oh-- Oh, well-- I'm sure that I'll be all right," said Moya Tilmitt. "After all, I--"

"Very well," said Father. He gestured, and suddenly two Silver Guardsmen were at their side. "Solos, Midaen: go with Master Tilmitt and keep watch over him. Make sure he comes to no harm."

Moya Tilmitt drew himself up. "My lord, I must admit-- I had... Hoped that I would have, by now, earned trust-yours--"

"You mistake me, Master Tilmitt," said Father. "Our lives--all of them, every single person in this Palace--are now in your hands. And since we cannot exactly protect ourselves, we will at least protect you. I would go myself if we could slip out unnoticed. No one else can do what you do. So, go, and do what you do best."

Moya Tilmitt bowed deeply and was off, following the tingle of someone using the Flow. Catheryne felt the urge to salute her father.