“So you have accompanied your brother as he makes his bow to the princess,” Senneth greeted her. “Do you find it odd? I was with my brother Will last year as he paid court to Casserah Danalustrous, and it was a most peculiar experience.”
Lauren smiled. She was as dark as Ryne and just as attractive, but had a much greater air of self-possession. “I cannot think Amalie will choose him from all her suitors,” Lauren said. “He’s very wild. But my father wanted him to come, and I jumped at the chance to visit the royal city.”
“How are your Lirren relatives?” Senneth asked, for Lauren and Ryne were the rarest of creatures: products of a marriage between a Lirren woman and a Gillengaria man.
“Some of them were arriving just as we left,” said Lauren, “and with a most incredible tale! Perhaps you’d heard that two of my cousins were novices at the Lumanen Convent?”
“I did know that.”
“And one of them has run away with a King’s Rider! They are actually married, he said. Do you know how unlikely that is?”
“I lived in the Lirrenlands for a few years. I know,” Senneth said, amused. “But I cannot help but think this is an excellent match. I know the Rider, and I met the girl.”
“That’s more than I’ve ever done. I’ve met many of my Lirren relatives, but the younger women rarely travel across the mountains, and I’ve never seen these two,” Lauren said.
“I have been wondering,” Senneth said, “how Coralinda Gisseltess took the news? I know she could not have been happy that one of her novices fled the convent. And I know your father holds her in high regard. So, I thought perhaps you might have heard something.”
For a moment, Lauren’s serene face looked troubled. “She came to Coravann Keep just a week or two ago,” she said. “The tale came up. You could tell she was trying to control her temper, but she was still enraged. This girl was a mystic, apparently, and Coralinda had wanted to exorcise the magic from her veins. She did not say how. But the girl eluded her and escaped the convent-Again, Coralinda did not elaborate. I watched her hands as she told the tale. They were clenched so hard I thought her bones must hurt.”
“I believe Coralinda was at the Keep last summer when your father held his ball,” Senneth said, her voice neutral. “Does she visit you often?”
Lauren had smoothed her face out, but it was clear she was not entirely at ease. “My father thinks of Coralinda Gisseltess as a devout and reverend lady,” she said slowly. “He worships the Pale Mother himself and has always worn a moonstone pendant. My father would never harm a mystic-my father in general is the most gentle of men-and he does not seem to believe that Coralinda Gisseltess offers any real threat to anyone, mystics included.”
This was interesting. “And you do?”
Lauren raised her dark eyes to Senneth’s face. “I hear the rumors, serra. About how she sends her men out to murder mystics in their beds. I do not like her. I do not trust her. I believe she is capable of doing exactly what they say.”
Senneth nodded. “And I know she is. Last fall, the king sent a Rider to spy on the convent, and that Rider followed Coralinda’s men as they rode to the houses where mystics lay. Her soldiers burned those houses to the ground. She wants to rid the realm of mystics, and she will stop at nothing until they are all dead.”
Senneth paused and glanced over at Ryne Coravann, who was standing beside the regent, a glass of wine in his hand. He had apparently already had a few drinks, for his handsome face was flushed and he was laughing immoderately. And Romar Brendyn was not a particularly amusing man.
“Halchon Gisseltess, on the other hand, wants to rid the realm of Baryn and his heirs,” Senneth added slowly. “I am not sure it is in your best interests to promote a match between the princess and your brother. I believe Halchon Gisseltess wants to take the country to war in order to win the throne for himself. Anyone who marries Amalie is likely to find himself facing down an assassin before the year is out.”
“My father does not believe war will come,” the girl said.
Senneth returned her attention to Lauren. In a deliberate voice, she replied, “Your father is wrong.”
BARYN wanted Senneth’s attendance the following morning-more to trade gossip than anything else, she realized. “What about Ryne Coravann? What do you think?” he asked as they settled in his untidy blue study and sipped hot tea.
Senneth eyed him over the rim of her cup. He looked worn and weary today, she thought. His flyaway gray hair was particularly unkempt this morning, and he had dressed himself in what had to be his oldest and most comfortable clothes. Still, his eyes were bright and sharp, and he waited with eager interest for her reply.
“I think he’s immature and hardly fit for marriage with anyone, if what you want is a proper husband for your daughter,” she replied bluntly. “If all you’re looking for is a bloodline that will satisfy the marlords, he might do. But I cannot imagine he will bring Amalie anything but heartache if she were ever to try to love him.”
He seemed neither offended nor alarmed. “I would like to say that love is unimportant, but you have proven in the most flamboyant way that you believe it is the card that trumps all others,” he said, his tone mild. “Perhaps I should be looking for advice from other quarters.”
She smiled. “Perhaps you should.”
“What do you think of Toland Storian? For he will be coming soon to pay court to my daughter.”
She almost spit out a mouthful of tea. “I hate him. And so does Amalie. He’s boorish and arrogant, and we had ample opportunity to observe that for ourselves last summer.”
The king was amused. “Yes-I believe there was some incident when you set him on fire?”
“Kirra arranged that,” she said hastily. “She provoked him on purpose. He behaved badly, and I had to protect Amalie.”
“In truth, I am not eager to see her wed Ryne Coravann or Toland Storian,” he said. “Let us see what our choices are after all the young men have come courting.”
She blew on her tea. “Do you have a favorite?”
He shrugged. “I would like to see her marry a man from Brassenthwaite or Rappengrass or Danalustrous,” he said. “A nobleman, of course, but not necessarily a serramar. Someone intelligent and kind, who would allow himself to be influenced by Romar.”
“Well, intelligent, kind, and easily dominated are not words that typically describe the men of Brassenthwaite, but I’ll ask my brother Kiernan to look around,” Senneth said dryly. “There must be some Thirteenth House lords lurking about who would be happy to see their sons marry into royalty.”
Baryn tapped the fingers of one hand against his cheek. “There has been more talk,” he said. “Of changes to the aristocracy. Soon there may be no Thirteenth House at all.”
The noble-born lords and ladies who were not purebred enough to belong to one of the Twelve Houses were all lumped under the rather derisive name of the Thirteenth House. During the past year, some of these lesser nobles had begun to agitate for more power and prestige-including a clear title to the lands they held in trust for the marlords. Many of these vassals had come to Ghosenhall to negotiate in good faith with Baryn. Others had tried to capitalize on the general unrest in the kingdom. Indeed, last year a few rebel lords had attempted more than once to murder the regent.