“No,” she said dolefully. “I must be proper, and hide behind the palace walls, and sit on the throne, and be very dull.”
He could not help but laugh at that. “No, now you are being courted by a couple dozen men, and you will get married, and eventually you will be queen. I would hardly think that will be a dull life,” he said.
She smiled. “And even Valri seems more relaxed since you have joined us,” she said. “She trusts you to be able to sense danger before it gets too close. Valri doesn’t trust many people, you know, so that is quite a compliment. Perhaps she will trust you enough to let me go shopping in the market someday. Wouldn’t that be fun!”
Cammon spared a moment to imagine the cavalcade that would accompany the princess on any expedition into the heart of the city. Riders-ordinary soldiers-himself-and no doubt Valri. He could hardly think any shop was big enough to accommodate them all. But the real challenge would fall to him, trying to open his mind enough to catch any intimation of danger from so many possible sources. It would be like being battered from a thousand directions. How would he be able to deflect all the happy, harmless arrows of attention while identifying the sharp spears of ill intent? “It might be simpler to have merchants bring their merchandise here,” he suggested.
“You just don’t like to shop,” she said.
“I think it might be difficult to keep you entirely safe.”
She leaned forward; her eyes suddenly seemed very dark. “Cammon,” she said in a soft voice, “who is ever entirely safe?”
CHAPTER 9
SENNETH found herself enjoying Kirra’s visit as she had not enjoyed anything in weeks. It was just so frivolous and girlish and-and-unimportant to spend the days combing through all the fine merchandise in the Ghosenhall shops, debating over the merits of blond lace or white, picking out rugs and curtains and goblets.
“Ellynor will want to choose some of her household furnishings herself, I’m sure,” Senneth said as she held up a beautifully embroidered quilt. “We should hold back a little, perhaps.”
“You didn’t spend this much time shopping for your own house,” Kirra retorted. “I’ve never seen you look at so much frilly stuff in my life.”
Senneth smiled. “I don’t like bows and ribbons and clutter. But it’s making me happy to pick things out for someone else.”
Kirra held up a pair of pillowcases, even more elaborately embroidered than the quilt. “Can you picture Justin laying his head on this?” she said, choking back a giggle. “Do you think he’s ever used a pillow in his life?”
That made Senneth laugh again, abandoning any notions of restraint.
It had been so long since she had been able to focus on anything that was inconsequential and fun. That had no chance of resulting in someone’s death, or the overthrow of the king, or the complete reshaping of the world.
If you were going to spend a day immersing yourself in frivolity, Kirra was the ideal companion.
They shopped and bought, pausing for meals, and then shopped and bought some more. Kirra seemed to have wholly recovered from her distress at seeing Romar Brendyn, though she had made a point of avoiding the formal dinner the previous night.
“While we’re buying things for Justin, we might be considering what to give our siblings for their wedding,” Kirra said as they sat at a bakery and ate sweets to recover their strength.
“You have given Danalustrous to Casserah. Surely that’s enough of a gift?” Senneth said. Kirra was the eldest daughter and by rights should inherit the House, but her father had determined that Casserah would make the better landholder. So he had bestowed the property on his youngest child instead.
“Oh, and I have given her my loyalty. Another expensive present,” Kirra said. “You’re right. She can’t possibly expect anything more.”
“And my gift will be my attendance at the event, since I hate affairs like this,” Senneth said. “Everyone will be so impressed by that they won’t look for a wrapped box with my name on it.”
“Did your family present you with any gifts upon the occasion of your own wedding?” Kirra asked. “I’m sure your brothers were disappointed that you chose to elope.”
“I’m sure they were relieved,” Senneth retorted. “How to explain to the Brassenthwaite vassals that the serramarra is taking a King’s Rider for her husband? You know that Nate was mortified just at the thought of such a disastrous alliance. I did them a favor by marrying where no one could witness the humiliation.”
Kirra waved this away. “So? Presents?”
Senneth grinned and nodded. “Trinkets and some cash. Not that we needed either, but I suppose the gesture was kind.”
“And you like being married?”
“I like it very much indeed.”
She could not have such conversations with anyone else-not Tayse, not Cammon, none of the Riders, certainly not the king. Her adventurous life had not left Senneth with an overabundance of close friends, and she had been estranged from her family too long to ever want to confide in her four brothers. But restless, irrepressible, unpredictable Kirra was the one woman in Gillengaria that Senneth absolutely trusted, and that meant she could count on Kirra to fight at her back or give her advice on love.
Strange.
They returned to the palace grounds tired and happy, but once they arrived at the cottage, Senneth learned her day wasn’t over. A note from Milo had been slipped under the door. The king requests your presence at dinner this evening.
“You’ve probably got one just like it in your room,” Senneth said, showing the invitation to Kirra.
“Well, I’m not going,” Kirra said. “I just won’t return to the palace. I’ll stay here and add our new purchases to Justin’s cottage. Oh, sorry, Majesty, I didn’t receive the note until too late.”
Senneth shook her head. “I don’t know why you’re one of Baryn’s favorites.”
Kirra smiled and tossed her gold curls. “I’m so charming that he has to forgive my poor manners.”
“But is charm ever really enough?” Senneth asked, with mock solemnity.
“It better be. Because that and hair are all I’ve got.”
Though not interested in attending the meal herself, Kirra supervised Senneth’s toilette and even modified the bronze-colored gown Senneth had chosen to wear. Kirra was a shape-shifter, but she could also change anything she put a hand to if she felt like it, and now she traced a finger over the décolletage of Senneth’s dress.
“You simply cannot go up to the palace with a dress so high-necked it’s practically strangling you,” Kirra insisted. “There. That’s more attractive. Now everyone can see this lovely necklace Tayse gave you and they’ll realize you’ve got a housemark under the pendant. Make them remember you’re a serramarra! Make them treat you like one, too.”
The gold sphere did indeed fall perfectly over the Brassenthwaite housemark burned into Senneth’s skin just above her breasts. She’d spent a good seventeen years of her life wishing she could erase that symbol of her family heritage, and now here she was, living a life where she was forced to flaunt it again.
“That’s too low. Change it back,” she commanded, but Kirra shook her head.
“I won’t. Go up there and flirt with somebody. Give Tayse something to worry about.”
Senneth tugged futilely at the neckline, which left her feeling ridiculously exposed. “You’re the most wretched girl!” she exclaimed. “I don’t have time or I’d put on a different dress.”
“And I’d change that one, too. Go! Have a lovely dinner.”
Naturally, the meal was not lovely, but it wasn’t dreadful, either. Senneth actually ended up being pleased that she had attended, because Ryne Coravann was there with his sister, Lauren. Ryne, of course, was courting Amalie and sat next to her for the meal. He was tall and dark, neither as bulky nor as sensible as his father. Senneth scarcely knew him, but she liked Lauren, and she made it a point to approach the Coravann serramarra as they gathered in the salon after the meal.