“I’m not touching those things,” Nora said, taking a step back. Mira did the same, shaking her head.
“Fine.” Caris scooped them up. The silvery metal was cool and dry against her hands, the chains thinner and lighter than she’d imagined. She could easily hold them in one hand and hide them in the folds of her skirt.
“We came to deliver a message and found him ill and dying.” Avice said. “Mira tried to aid him, but alas…”
“His heart failed,” Mira said, but the joke didn’t seem quite so funny the second time.
“We offer no specifics,” Avice said. “He gasped, died—”
“And dissolved into goo,” Nora finished.
Avice nodded. “Get your dresses on, then put the room to rights.” She looked at the shelves. “I suppose the King will want all this taken to the library as well,” she muttered. “Come, Caris. Try to keep those out of sight until we reach the garden.”
Caris followed.
The Queen andher noble ladies were all still clustered in the garden, as if no time had passed.
Queen Satia was sitting, a cup of tea in both hands, breathing in the steam. She turned her head slightly as they entered the garden, raising an eyebrow.
Avice and Caris both curtsied. As Caris rose, she shifted her hand to let the chains be briefly visible.
Satia’s lip curled and her pleasure swelled the Bond.
“Avice?” she called, putting her cup down. “You look as if you have news.”
Avice moved forward and Caris followed, basking in the warmth of the Bond, enjoying the glow of satisfaction for a job well done.
Something shifted. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Halithe start, her eyes wide.
For the swiftest of moments, like the trill of a tiny songbird on the wing, Caris felt regret.
Until she saw Satia’s face.
“My Queen, I regret to inform you,” Avice said, the lie flowing from her as smooth as silk. Caris watched in admiration as the Queen’s face artfully reflected her shock and horror at the news as Caris displayed the chains for all to see.
The ladies cried out in dismay, their voices rising. Above the other rose one sincere, anguished cry. Caris was careful not to look around.
Not to see Halithe’s grief.
“What a tragedy!” Satia started to struggle out of her chair. Avice rushed to assist her. “We must plunge the Court into mourning for such a wise and good man, so loyal in his service to the Crown.” On her feet, she started toward the doors, summoning all four Bondmaidens with a gesture.
“Ladies, I must leave you, but let us do him every honor.”
Avice rushed forward to open the doors for her.
“Let every member of my court don black and let any festivities be cancelled. Send word to the King, for we must cancel the council meeting for this afternoon.”
Satia paused in the doorway. “We must also send word to Guildmaster Forterran of this terrible tragedy,” she added. Then, with a twirl of her fur cape, she was gone.
Caris followed, eyes down, silver chains in her hands.
Chapter Forty-Five
Vren walked up to the very edge of the precipice and looked at home.
The Wastes stretched out before him, dry desert and scrub in all the shades of brown and gray known. He took a deep breath of the hot air rising in his face, smelling sand and stone and acrid, bitter air.
His heart swelled with the quiet joy of home.
