If living under her father's roof had been difficult, living under Lord Lyon's would be harder still. There would be no Lorryn to whisk her away on occasional escapes. Lord Lyon would have her watched, every moment, to make certain that she was the obedient little fool he thought she was. Every book she read would be scrutinized, every exercise of her powers weighed and measured. Every hour of her day would be spied upon. She would have no secrets, for Lord Lyon would be certain that a secret meant a secret plot against himself. There was only one ruler in that House, and Lord Lyon would permit no other.
If she wanted to survive, she had only one choice: She must conform completely. She must become a copy of her mother, serene, obedient, and dead inside.
There was only one person who could possibly help her—
Lorryn! He's clever, he'll think of something!
Just as she thought that, there came a faint tapping on her door. Three taps, a pause, then two, then one.
She flung herself out of bed and ran to let her brother in.
For one joyful moment she was certain he had heard of what had happened and had come to tell her how to extricate herself from her plight. But as he slipped inside and shut the door quickly behind him, he turned toward her with a face as pale and as fearful as her own.
Rena, you have to help me, he whispered hoarsely, his voice choked with tension, his eyes huge and dark-circled in his white face. I don't have anyone else to turn to!
The shock was worse than being plunged into ice-cold water. Lorryn? Helpless? With no one to turn to?
And I do? She thought, and shook her head. I was—Lorryn, what on earth could I do to help you? What's happened to you? Possibilities swarmed her mind. Had he been indiscreet with someone who had a powerful father? Had he gambled disastrously and lost? Had he gotten into a quarrel with another er-Lord—oh, dear Ancestors, had he quarreled, fought, and the fight ended fatally? She blurted the first words that came to her lips. Did you get in trouble with—
He shook his head violently. It isn't anything you can guess, he replied, and seized both her hands to pull her over to a seat on the couch opposite the bed. 'Trust me, it isn't anything you can even imagine. I'm in terrible danger—I'm—
He swallowed audibly, and passed the back of his hand across his forehead. Something was supposed to happen at Lord Ardeyn's fete. The High Lords of the Council were testing everyone under a certain age as they arrived to see if they were halfbloods in a disguise of illusion.
She nodded, remembering that tingle of spell-casting she had felt as she arrived, and remembering, too, that she had wondered why her father had ordered cosmetics for her instead of an illusion of better looks.
Well, I didn't go to the fete, and late last night three members of the Council arrived here with orders to test me for illusion, he went on, beads of sweat starting out on his forehead.
She shook her head. I don't understand, she said, bewildered. What could be so bad about that?
She couldn't help thinking about her own plight—how could anything Lorryn faced in the way of some kind of test be worse than the trap she was in?
They can't test me! he said hoarsely, his hands clenching on hers until she made a sound of pain in protest and he released his hold. Rena, they can't test me! If they do, they'll find out I am halfblood!
She stared at him, the words refusing to make sense. How can you be a halfblood? she asked stupidly. Mother—
Lady Viridina is my mother, he said woodenly. But Lord Tylar is not my father. My father was a human slave, master of her household. She kept the illusion on me until I was old enough to hold it on myself. I am a halfblood, a wizard, and when the Council finds that out—
Once again, shock—and the fact that this time she might be able to do something—gave her mind speed and clarity.
They'll kill you, she breathed. Oh, Ancestors! Lorryn, how—we have to do something! Can't Mother help you?
He took her hands in that crushing grip again, but this time she hardly noticed. Despair had turned his features into a mask of pain. Mother can't save me this time; Father locked her in the bower until the testing is over. You are the only person I can turn to. Can't you hide me among your servants or something? Can you—
I have a better idea, she replied quickly, as she made, then discarded, a dozen plans in a heartbeat. He couldn't hide here; he had to run away. And if he ran—
He had to take her with him.
She calculated, quickly. At least, I think I do. One of my maids always seems to have all kinds of information about the dragons and wizards—it's reliable, too; I've checked it against all the things you've found out.
What has that— he began, then blinked. Oh. Oh, of course! If she has a way of getting information, she may have a way back to the source! A glint of hope entered his eyes. Do you think she's an agent of the wizards?
Rena shrugged; the idea had never occurred to her before, but it certainly made complete sense. What else could she be? She's terribly forward, not much like any slave I've ever seen. She's not one of Father's castoffs, and anyway, they have a different kind of insolence. The wizards must have spies among the slaves, right? Or how else would they know what we were doing? And how else would they know who the halfbloods among the slaves were, to rescue them? She told me that the wizards were always rescuing halfblood children from the slave pens. Didn't they rescue the Elvenbane that way?
He nodded, and his face took on a grave intensity. They couldn't have known about me, because I wasn't a slave—unless this Myre of yours was sent here because they thought that either you or me might have had human blood.
It makes sense, she agreed. It makes even more sense when you think about all the stories she's told me about the dragons and the wizards, all the news she brought me about what they were doing. She says they're building a new stronghold right now, in fact, and that the dragons are helping them. It was her turn to clutch his hands. We should run away, both of us, Lorryn! We should go to the dragons!
Both of us? he said, sudden doubt in his voice. But you aren't—
If you disappear, what do you think will happen to me? she countered fiercely, before he could object. Father would never believe that I didn't know something.
He wouldn't use a coercion on his own— Lorryn began.
Oh yes he would, she said, with a savagery that took him aback. He wouldn't hesitate, not for a moment, and especially not with three members of the Council breathing down his neck. Years of resentment at Lorryn's preferential treatment came to a boil, and she gave him truth after bitter, angry truth. He was ready to wed me to the first drooling dotard or prize idiot that made an offer. He was willing to use coercions to get me to the fete. And he was quite prepared to have me sent away to be Changed if I didn't please Lord Lyon last night. You've never seen him fling his used concubines at Mother and expect her to smile and take them into her service! You've never listened to him insult both of us and expect us to nod and agree with him that we are useless, worthless, empty-headed idiots. You've never had to sit at dinner while he told his friends that you were hardly satisfactory, but if any of them were willing to take you off his hands, he'd be grateful! And you've never sat there in silence because if you dared to look insolent, he'd mage-lash you as soon as you were all in private. Mage-lashing, she added bitterly, leaves no marks, after all; no scars that might disfigure a potential bride.