Zoltan had drawn close, also apparently fascinated, no longer urging her to send the creature back. “Adsila,” he breathed. “It cannot be.”
“Who?” she asked, vaguely, still entranced by the gorgeous, magical bird. “I didn’t mean to let it through,” she added. What a huge blunder on her part. She couldn’t quite understand how she’d slipped up. “But I didn’t shape it.”
He tore his gaze from the tiny raptor, shaking his head. “I know you didn’t, on either count. Adsila is the avatar of She Who Eats Bears, a particularly vengeful goddess. As a numinous being herself, Adsila is able to travel the Dream of her own will and cannot be restrained by any ward created by anything less than another deity.”
Stunned, Rose regarded the radiantly colorful kestrel, who watched her in return, gaze sharp and all-seeing. A goddess’s avatar… Well, that explained a great deal, and also generated a thousand more questions. “What is she doing here?” Rose breathed in wonder.
“Whatever she likes,” Zoltan answered drily. “One does not interfere with the will of a deity.”
“No, I didn’t imagine I would. It’s just that, I don’t… I wonder what I…” Rose was both babbling and unable to put a coherent thought together.
“I suggest you close your portal, as Adsila apparently has no interest in going back into the Dream.”
Hastily, Rose did as he asked, diverting her attention to methodically close the portal, the withdrawing of her sorcery a marked relief.
“At least we know you built the portal well and with reliablestability,” Zoltan remarked, his frown returning. “But something very odd happened. I will think on it. You are dismissed. We shall discuss exactly what you did—and did not do—tomorrow.”
“And I can try again tomorrow?” she asked, feeling tentative.
He looked from Adsila to her. “I haven’t decided. I need time to think.”
“But, Master Zoltan, I—”
“You have a new companion to care for. Go do it.”
“But… what should Idowith her?”
“She came to you, so I imagine she will decide what she does.” Indeed, with that saliently unhelpful remark, he departed.
Leaving Rose alone with a bleeding arm, the avatar of a vengeful deity, and the deeply troubling sensation that she’d done something terribly wrong.
12
Sebastien traveled to Castle Vega the long way around, via the Aswad Woods. Not that he planned to go anywhere near Rotten Rupert’s hunting lodge there. He just needed some time in the forest to clear his mind. It had worked, except that he hadn’t counted on Nina and Nonna being so excited to be back in the area where they’d been born.
Home home home.
Home home home.
Nina and Nonna had been happily singing their homecoming chorus since they’d entered the woods, undeterred by Sebastien’s repeated reminders that they weren’t going to visit their hound family. He felt a little bad about it. Had he realized how badly Nina and Nonna missed the woods of their birth and how much a trip home would delight them, he would have taken them for a visit long since.
Idon’t want to go back to that place,Kismet commented sourly.I’m just happy to go anywhere at all again,he added, not the first time he’d said something about being cooped up at HASP.Those three mares in the corner stalls are very snooty. They won’t even talk to me. And did I tell you that Sterling, the gray stallion, is boasting that he’s been with all three of them? But Rosie says that he’s making it up.
“You did tell me all of that,” Sebastien replied. He’d never expected that being able to hear animals meant being admitted to the wacky world of horse drama.
Well.Kismet blew out a bubble of disdainful saliva.I’m happy to have a break from their nonsense. Finally.
“I’m sorry, buddy,” Sebastien said, patting the horse’s neck. “I’ve been neglecting you and I’ll do better.”
Kismet made a verbal harrumphing snort of clear doubt that included a great deal more slobber and Sebastien felt doubly bad. Between the heavy class load and all the outside work assigned to him to catch up with students much younger than he, Sebastien had very little free time—and what he did have, he spent with Rose. It was good for him that she was so serious and ambitious, so determined to spend every moment on study, or he’d probably be failing. As it was, he’d barely kept up passing marks in even the remedial classes. Madame Hendricks might be thrilled to have actual royalty at HASP, but that didn’t translate to her or the professors cutting him any slack.
For the first time in his life, he wasn’t cruising easily along on his charm, a generous smile, and a willingness to please those more powerful than he in whatever way they wished. It would be galling, but he had to laugh at himself. He’d wanted something to make him more powerful, to make his life easier to bear. And now look at him: a sorcerer, if a low-level one, and having to put effort in because of it.
He’d had a shot at a better position at court, at pleasing his irascible father, with Rose. And then he’d gone and bungled the proposal, which should have been easily within his skill set. He should have set it up to be romantic, with flowers and poetry. But he’d thought, well, that Rose would appreciate the practicality of the proposal. They’d both entered the affair with clear knowledge that they could benefit each other. Alas, no one but Rose would turn up her nose at the prospect of being a princess. A thousand girls would kill for that role, but Rose—contrary, prickly, difficult Rose—just had to treat a future with him like a prison sentence.
He didn’t expect her to love him. Frankly, he truly didn’t believe in love. Even Ali and Dianna scoffed at the notion of love, commenting that it was propaganda to entice people into otherwise destructive marriage contracts. The much-touted familial love had never made its presence known either.
Love you,Nina said.
