Wild, black hair framed Istra's darkly beautiful face. Red lips were pulled back to reveal sharp eye teeth beneath. But the expression was that of refuge, not of threat, and Carina found herself drawn to the glowing amber eyes, eyes that seemed to follow her as the torchlight gave the entire stained glass image the illusion of motion.
She had ventured to the chapel with the vague hope that she might find comfort. Now that she was here, she felt at a loss. She had no idea how followers of the Dark Lady made their offerings, or whether Istra might take offense if an offering were made to her in the manner of one of the other Aspects. Carina made the sign of the Lady and bowed low, and murmured the words of a half-remembered prayer from her childhood.
"In the dark places, I call to You. In the barren places, I seek Your face. Comfort me in the night, for I have no consolation. Lead, and I will follow."
A slight breeze slipped past Carina, enough to make the candle flames tremble and to ripple the surface of the reflecting pool that lay in front of the largest statute. It was a magnificent depiction of Istra, her protective cloak spread wide, lifting the broken body of one of her vayash moru children toward the sky, her features twisted with grief.
Just as Carina was about to leave, she saw a small bundle near the foot of the statue. She walked over, and reached down to pick up a stylus and a bottle of ink. Carina sank down to her knees, recognizing the intent that brought the items to the altar.
"Jonmarc's made Istra's Bargain," Carina murmured aloud. Riqua was right. He knew what it would cost to destroy Malesh. He's not coming back. She hugged her knees and rested her forehead against them, finding that tears were denied her. A glow lit the air next to her, and Raen's form gradually grew more solid. The ghost girl laid an insubstantial hand on Carina's shoulder in comfort, and sat beside her in silence as Carina rocked back and forth, inconsolable.
Chapter Four
My Dearest Tris
There's been no word of how the siege is going, and my imagination is inventing all kinds of reasons that I haven't heard from you. Please send some note to ease my mind. I miss you terribly.
I'm doing well and the baby is beginning to show. Perhaps now I can keep some food down. Cerise says the stomach problems will go away, but not soon enough for me. Crevan means to keep me safe, but I'm not used to staying in my rooms all day with a guard at my door. Harrtuck has gone with some guardsmen to put down a problem in the hill country, and it seems as if one by one, old friends slip out of reach.
There's so much I want to tell you, but I don't dare trust it in a letter. When you return, so many things will be set right. Until then, we're doing our best to carry on. I pray the siege will be short and that you can come back soon. Stay safe, and send word. With love, Kiara
Kiara sighed and slipped the note into an envelope, then sealed it with hot wax and pressed her signet, marking the wax with the crest of Margolan's queen. She handed the letter to Crevan, the seneschal.
"You're certain my letters are included in the packets that you send to the front?" Kiara probed.
The thin man fidgeted, reminding Kiara of a long-legged bird. "Yes, my queen. But the snows are deep, and even documents that require the king's signature are not returning quickly. Some have not come back at all. It takes most of a week to reach where the army is camped-and that's when the roads are passable and there are no brigands. I fear the king has other matters on his mind." Crevan smiled. "I'm sure your letters to him are a comfort, even if he's not able to respond. I have another messenger leaving tomorrow with the supplies."
"Thank you," Kiara murmured.
"Begging your pardon, m'lady, but you look tired. Perhaps you should rest."
Kiara sighed. "I will. I just need to slow my thoughts."
"As you wish, m'lady. Shall I have some tea and cakes sent up?"
Kiara shook her head. "Thank you, no. Macaria brought up some mulled cider. I'll have
some later."
"Sleep well, m'lady."
Kiara turned away as she shut the door. "I'm worried, Cerise." Tonight, she sat up late in Cerise's room, since the healer stayed up later than either Alle or Macaria. "It's been almost three months since the army left and I haven't received any notes at all from Tris. That's not like him." She set the letter aside. Beyond the frost-covered windows, the bells in the bailey tower chimed midnight. Jae, her small gyregon, lay as close to the fire as he dared, curled up to stay warm. Tris's three dogs, two wolfhounds and the mastiff, sprawled near the fire as well.
"There are all kinds of reasons why," Cerise said gently. "The war may give him very little time for personal luxuries. The king may hesitate to send so personal a message through uncertain hands. Your mother fretted for all the same reasons when your father was away on campaign."
"I wish Tris were here, Cerise," Kiara said quietly. "So many things have happened since the army left. Malae's death. Mikhail and Bian locked up. Harrtuck sent away with the troops. And the attacks." Her voice drifted off. "I don't want to tell him about what's happened-he has enough on his mind. But I know that if he were here, we'd get to the bottom of it." Her hand fell to the slight curve at her belly. "Staying locked up in my rooms seems like a poor way to manage my first months as queen!"
Cerise laid a hand on her shoulder. "Until we know who's behind the attacks, there's no choice." She smiled. "It's late. Crevan's right; you should rest."
Kiara nodded and stood, stretching. "If I don't hear from Tris soon, I'm going to scry. What good is the regent magic if I never use it?" Cerise always kept the windows open at night, and a cold breeze fluttered the parchment on the desk, making Kiara shift to move out of the chill.
Cerise frowned. "Carroway told me how dangerous it was when you tried to scry on your journey."
"That was because of the Obsidian King and Foor Arontala. They're gone now." "There are still dark things that seek you-and your child-on the nether plains. Please Kiara, reconsider."
Kiara nodded tiredly. "All right. For now. Good night, Cerise."
Carrying her candle, Kiara moved to the doorway that separated her rooms from Cerise's. Jae and the dogs stirred from their spot near the fire to follow her. Kiara opened the door, and saw that Alle had taken up a spot for the night in a chair near the fire, and that Macaria had fallen asleep at the table, with her head on her music and her flute beside her on the floor. Kiara smiled and walked over to gently shake Macaria. When she didn't wake, Kiara set the candlestick on the table and used both hands to shake Macaria by the shoulders. "Wake up, sleepyhead! You'll have a cramp in your neck."
Macaria did not rouse. Kiara turned toward where Alle was sprawled in her chair. "Alle, wake up!"
Alle did not move, but Cerise came to the doorway. "What's wrong, Kiara?" "They won't wake up!"
Cerise closed her eyes and sniffed the air, extending one hand as she used her healer's magic. Her eyes opened wide. "Bad air. Open the windows wide-hurry!" Kiara ran to open the mullioned windows and threw both sets open as far as the heavy leaded panes would go. She helped Cerise drag Macaria and Alle close to the cold, fresh air, and fanned them as Cerise went for cold water and her healer's pack. "Can we open the balcony doors in the king's room?" Cerise asked. Kiara used her key to open the double doors that separated her sitting room from Tris's bedchamber, while Cerise went to fetch the guards. Ammond and Hothan, two of Kiara's favorites among the guards, came quickly, lifting Macaria and Alle easily and following Kiara into Tris's chamber. Kiara flung the doors to the snow-covered balcony open. The winter wind blew the curtains wide and wisps of snow drifted onto the Noorish carpet. Ammond and Hothan held the two unconscious women so that the cold wind would blow squarely in their faces, while Cerise daubed their skin with snow.