like wells plunging deep, impossible not to fall into.
“You come a long way to speak at the Uncourt of Lionis.” Hal smiled.
“Are there no star priests in Aremoria, that you assume I come from far?”
“None so obviously marked by the blessings of our cousin island.” The prince did not add that she knew a Learish family that occasionally spat out children with faces and coloring like this, and would certainly wear a strange iron ring. Let the girl keep her anonymity if she preferred. Hal blinked, and came up with a name: Era, the youngest granddaughter of the acting duke of Errigal, given to the star priests as a child.
Hal knew details and names from every noble family in Aremoria and Innis Lear. It was self-preservation that the heir to a stolen throne become familiar with all the bloodlines of her rivals, even one such as this with no known relation to Aremore royalty, either proven or legendary.
Nova, still at her prince’s knee, cleared her throat impatiently; Hal was staring.
Amusement spread through the cavern and the prince smiled ruefully. Her Uncourt knew her desire template thoroughly. “Well, well, settle down,” she said with a chuckle.
“This one is too young for you!” called a voice.
“No younger than Hal’s mother was to her father!” another teased.
“Better not collude with a girl from Innis Lear!”
The freckled girl tucked her chin reflexively, but kept her haunting eyes on Hal.
“Is that what you’ve come to do, girl?” asked Lady Ianta as she dipped a finger in her cup of sack and flicked it at the priest in benediction. “Collude with our prince? My blessings, then, and good luck settling Hal’s riot.”
Hal said, “Come, give us your petition.”
“And your name!” cried Barda from the mouth of the cave.
The girl said, clear and ringing, “I am Era of Innis Lear, you have spied me true. I come to read your stars.”
Hal raised the thin black lines of her eyebrows. “I have already had my stars read, and my birth chart is gilded and bejeweled, hanging in my mother’s study high above us now.”
“Does it say you are a lion, and that you would be queen?”
There was silence, and Hal gritted her teeth. She pressed through with a hard smile and said, “My mother and these people around you say so enough.”
Lady Ianta raised her cup. “Long live our lion Hal, prince now, queen to be! May we all be fortunate when she reigns. Or rather, when she shines.”
“To our sun!” yelled Barda, and all the others lifted the blessing high.
Hal shrugged as if she could not stop their celebration, watching Era carefully. Dread slowly cuffed her throat as she curated her thoughts according to who she made herself now: slovenly Prince of Riot, nothing more. Never more. It had been nearly half a year since anyone had reminded her of that prophecy, or called her a lion with anything but disbelieving laughter. She’d made it so with deliberate behavior. Fall far and hard, she’d thought when Hotspur left.
Hal would fall so low as to allow no space to fall further.
The Learish priest pushed her cloak back from her shoulders and knelt suddenly upon the rough stone ground. With a thin charcoal stick that appeared in her hand, she drew a wide arc before her. The black line wavered in the candlelight. “Here, the sky, Prince, and here—” She dotted the stone with marks and constellations. “Here and here.” Era worked efficiently, as if practiced at drawing this exact star map.
“And there, and there,” Hal murmured. She reached toward Nova, and a cup was put into her hand. Hal drank it all down, eager for the light head that came with sack to cushion her memories.
“Is that the Worm of Fools?” Nova asked.
Petus, who’d come up from the cave entrance and clutched his fiddle to his side, answered, “There are no worm stars in Hal’s chart. She’ll none of worms, nor swords.”
“Crowns and wells are more her shape,” Nova said.
Hal found herself unengaged in their banter.
Lady Ianta, too, was quiet. Hal knew the old knight would be murmuring a silent prayer or saint’s blessing as this star priest painted a sky onto the floor of the cave.
“Here,” Era said, leaning back on her ankles. “Here is the Dragon’s spine, all of it we can see near midsummer, and here the Lion of War beginning to ascend for the waning half of this year. And the rest of the major constellations above us now.” She reached into a pocket