Daja rocked back, startled. Plenty of people had lovers if they weren’t married, but it seemed greedy to have more than one.

“How do you think a nobody like Pershan fer Roth got an important position like Master of the Hunt?” Rizu wanted to know. “He couldn’t have afforded the fifty gold argib fee to get the post. Her Imperial Majesty paid it.” Rizu lowered her long lashes. “He’s been the imperial favorite for about five weeks. Do you like him?”

“No,” Daja said, bewildered that Rizu should even ask. “Oh, he’s pretty enough. With those shoulders he could be a smith, but no. I was just curious.”

“Sandrilene,” called the empress.

Sandry looked at Berenene with yearning. She silently asked Daja, Is she going to pull my suitors off me now? Before they smother me?

Daja snorted.

“What?” Rizu wanted to know, but Daja just shook her head.

“We are of a mind to go hunting tomorrow, in the Kristinmur Forest,” Berenene explained. “We invite you and your friends.” Her tone made it not a request, but a statement.

Sandry frowned, then got to her feet, shooing the young men who sat in front of her out of her way as a farmwife might shoo chickens. “Your Imperial Majesty is gracious,” Sandry replied slowly. Daja could tell she was groping for words that would not offend. Sandry went on: “The truth is that my friends and I do not hunt.”

Briar sauntered into the clear space before the empress. “Well, I’ve hunted, when I had to,” he said with a polite bow. “But not as Your Imperial Majesty means it, with horses and the birds and the dogs.”

“And beaters,” added Tris, coming into view from a pocket of shadow where she’d been talking with Ishabal. “Frightening helpless animals.”

“A boar or an elk is hardly helpless,” the empress said drily. She found Daja immediately. “Do you also object to hunting?” she asked mildly.

Daja shrugged and got to her feet to bow. “I never learned, Your Imperial Majesty. I ride well enough, but the only weapon I’m good with is a staff, and that’s for bashing human heads, not animal ones.”

The courtiers laughed as Berenene smiled. “Delightfully frank,” she told Daja with a smile. “You must forgive us northerners. We all learned to hunt as children on our first ponies. Very well, since hunting does not appeal, what do you say to a visit to Dragonstone? Saghad Ambros knows where that is, between here and Sablaliz. It’s a fortress from the old Haidheltac empire, very lovely. I’ve been remaking it as a kind of stone garden, in and around what remains of the buildings, with ponds and places to picnic.”

Sandry curtsied. Tris followed suit, as Briar and Daja bowed. “It sounds wonderful, Cousin,” replied Sandry. “We would love to join you.”

12

The 4th and 5th days of Rose Moon, 1043 K. F.

Clehamat Landreg to
Dragonstone, Namorn

Supper that night seemed lonely without Rizu, Caidy, Jak, and Fin to tell stories and make jokes over the table. They had returned to Sablaliz with the empress, who had declared herself helpless without their companionship. Jak and Fin had seemed genuinely sad to leave Sandry. And Daja was definitely sad that they had lost Rizu and Caidy.

Over supper, Ambros announced, “Her Imperial Majesty has invited Ealaga and me to join you tomorrow. In addition, I’m detaching five men-at-arms to guard us. There’s no need to bring more. The presence of the empress in the district should discourage kidnappers. Besides”—he began.

Sandry and Tris chorused with him, “There’s the plowing to be done.” It was why they had taken so few guards to Pofkim.

Ambros gave his crackling laugh. His wife and daughters fell victim to the giggles. Daja fixed it in mind to share with Rizu, who probably would have joined their chorus. They’d all had plenty of time to learn that Ambros’s first priority, apart from acquainting Sandry with her estates, was to make sure every acre that could grow a crop was plowed and sown. Despite Sandry’s visit, the yearly round of the castle continued.

“And I will stay here,” Zhegorz said firmly.

Sandry gave him her warmest smile. “You’ll stay here,” she reassured him. “No empresses for you.”

At dawn their small party left, along with their guards and two donkeys who carried picnic delicacies from the Landreg kitchens. The four mages rode silently, saving their conversational skills for the day ahead. When they reached Dragonstone, they were rewarded for their early ride. Berenene, as wide-awake as she had been the day before, took them on a tour of the fortress ruins.

Every inch of the crumbling great hall and the inner bailey had received attention by gardeners. In pockets between stones Briar found tiny, ground-hugging flowers with spiky white petals, rockroses, and pinks. Trickles of water ran over mossy stones, or formed small waterfalls that dropped into pools set in what must have been the dungeon level of the castle. Small willows and dwarf maple trees grew on the grounds, shading ponds and benches. Everything fit the ruins but did not obscure them.

It’s a pity Berenene loves orchids so, Briar thought, trailing loving fingers over the happiest jasmine vine he’d ever met. She could create the perfect shakkan garden.

“Do you like it?” Berenene asked, coming up next to him. “This was the garden I had as a girl—the only thing my father would let me tend. I lived in the gatekeeper’s lodge and studied with the Sisterhood of Qunoc in the temple on the shore, until my older brother died and I became the heir. I built on this place for years. Now I have gardeners to tend it, but any changes are done to my request.”