There was a smile in Amalie’s voice. “I imagine it will.”
Valri, who had been contemplating her discard when the lord started speaking, paused long enough to listen to this little interchange. Now she glanced at Cammon with her eyebrows raised, as if to ask, Is he sincere? Cammon, whose own hand was unplayable, nodded back. There was no lust for power, no lust for a young girl’s body, hovering over this middle-aged swain. Cammon saw Valri’s face sharpen with interest; she started weighing the advantages of an unpretentious, settled older man who treated his young bride with kindness.
Cammon frowned at her and mouthed, Too old. Valri shrugged and pointed at herself. Look at me, she meant, married to a man in his sixties. Cammon’s frown grew more pronounced. Different, he said silently. She gave a half-smile and shook her head. Not really. Cammon disagreed, but it was impossible to explain why, given the circumstances.
Amalie seemed to be enjoying her conversation with the amiable Nocklyn lord, which didn’t particularly cheer Cammon. The visitor was describing the crops his lands yielded and the markets where he sold them.
“Do you trade with foreign merchants?” she asked, as if she was really interested.
“Sometimes with Sovenfeld,” he answered. “I’ve been looking toward Arberharst, but I’m not sure what they produce there that would be worth the exchange.”
Honey spice, Cammon thought, imagining those great fields heavy with bright red flowers.
“Honey spice, perhaps?” Amalie said in the most natural voice.
Cammon laid down his cards and stared at the partition as if he could see right through it. Did she know that? Or had she picked up the thought in his head? Valri looked at him curiously, but he was too focused on the dialogue on the other side of the screen to glance in her direction.
“I’ve heard of it,” the Nocklyn man admitted, “but never tasted it. What’s it like?”
Amalie hesitated for a second. Cammon thought, Richer than cinnamon, and a little rougher. Amalie said, “It’s a little like cinnamon, but the flavor is a bit stronger.”
Cammon felt his hands contract into fists.
“So, it’s used in baking? Sweets and pastries, that sort of thing?”
And some meat dishes like chicken.
“I believe some people also use it when they’re cooking poultry.”
“Might be a market for it in the four corners,” the Nocklyn man said. Fortunalt, Gisseltess, Brassenthwaite, and Danalustrous were the four Houses on the “corners” of Gillengaria and widely regarded as the most sophisticated of the Twelve.
You can buy it in Ghosenhall, Cammon thought, but it’s expensive.
“There are a few specialty shops here in the city that carry it, I believe,” Amalie said. “If you wanted to try it. You might ask them where they get their supplies and if they would be interested in another source.”
There was a smile in the man’s voice. “I’ll do that-if I decide I want to expand my trading circle over the ocean.”
“My father likes the idea of more foreign commerce,” Amalie said, and they were off on a topic that she knew better than Cammon did. He took a deep breath, relaxed his shoulders, and turned to look at Valri again.
The queen was watching him closely, her green eyes narrowed to slits. She did not look happy. He wasn’t sure what to tell her. But it was clear that, no matter what kind of magic Valri was conjuring to keep Amalie safe, it only worked in one direction. Amalie’s thoughts and emotions might be cloaked from the world, hidden so expertly that even a reader like Cammon could not uncover them. But he could communicate with her. He could cast his magic like a net and let it settle invisibly over her shining hair-and Amalie welcomed its arrival, tilted back her head as if to absorb it through her skin. He wasn’t sure which Valri would find more alarming-that Amalie was susceptible to enchantment, or that she delighted in it.
The instant Amalie accompanied the Nocklyn lord out of the room and the door shut behind them, Valri clutched Cammon’s arm. “What did you do?” she demanded. “Were you putting thoughts in her mind? How can you do that?”
He didn’t know how to play this. “I’m not exactly sure,” he said cautiously. “She did seem to be picking up on some of the things I was thinking.”
Valri shook his arm. “You shouldn’t be able to do that. She shouldn’t be able to hear you.”
“Well-”
The door opened again, and Amalie came bouncing through the concealed opening into their secret corridor. “Cammon!” she exclaimed. “That was so much fun! I could hear you!”
Valri’s face grew even more set. “Hear him? How, exactly?”
“It was as if he was standing right beside me, talking in a normal tone of voice,” Amalie said blithely, while Valri’s expression grew blacker. “But I knew he was speaking just to me.”
Just then, the two Riders came around the corner of the narrow corridor. There were too many of them bunched inside this tiny space; it was beginning to feel ridiculous. “Majesty, do you have further need of us?” one of them asked.
Valri waved a dismissive hand. “No, thank you, you may go.” They bowed, retraced their steps, and disappeared. Valri said, “We need to discuss this. Come back to the parlor with us.”
Amalie led the way out, but spoke over her shoulder. “Discuss it? Why? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t like the notion that people can just-just-put thoughts in your head! Convince you to say any kind of crazy thing!”
Amalie laughed. “Valri, it’s Cammon,” she said. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
And as they paraded down the gilt hallways to Amalie’s favorite room, Cammon had time to reflect on that. Was that a compliment of the highest order, or the worst possible insult?
Inside the rose-and-cream parlor, Valri turned to face the other two as if they were erring children and she a wrathful parent. But Cammon thought her expression owed more to fear than fury, and he lost the irritation that had built up along the way.
“Amalie, it disturbs me that you are open to magic-anyone’s magic-even someone as benign as Cammon,” she said. “It is what I have given so much of my life to protect you from.”
“I can’t hear her thoughts, if that’s what concerns you,” Cammon said. “She’s still cloaked in whatever spell you’ve put on her.”
“That’s a relief, but only a small one,” Valri retorted. “I want her immune from magic. I don’t want it to touch her at all.”
“Is that what you’ve been protecting her from all this time?” he asked curiously. “Why did you allow Senneth to accompany her last summer, then? Senneth used fire more than once to keep Amalie safe, and you didn’t seem worried then.”
“Princess Amalie,” Valri said sharply.
Cammon felt like he had been slapped. “Princess Amalie,” he corrected himself after a moment. “She has been touched by magic more than once already.”
Amalie cast him a sympathetic glance but came close enough to put an arm around Valri’s shoulders. Amalie was not particularly tall, but she still was bigger than the queen, and she bent her bright head over Valri’s dark one as if to offer desperately needed solace. “Valri-don’t worry-I just heard a few words he spoke,” Amalie said. “Cammon’s voice. As if we were talking. Nothing more frightening than that.”