all curtsied deeply and Calla stepped forward, curtsying also. “I beg Your pardon, Your Highness. We have no wish to disobey You, but it’s clear that You intend to embark on some sort of personal battle in the next hours. We failed Your Highness in the past by not staying to protect You. We’ve all been practicing, as You asked, and while we are not yet as proficient as we’d like to be, we beg leave to remain, to guard Your back and Calanthe, as is our sworn duty.”
I regarded her with some surprise, seeing the same resolve on all their faces. The blossoms of the Flower Court, displaying their thorns in fine style. Emotion moved through me, fine and sweet. I’d perhaps learned something about not rejecting the love offered to me, like a child flinging away a toy that proved less shiny than initially thought.
“Please rise. I welcome your protection and support,” I told them. “Thank you. Though I cannot vouch how this particular battle will appear to you. It may be quite strange.”
Orvyki smothered a giggle, and Calla smiled with genuine humor. “We are rather growing accustomed to strangeness, Your Highness.”
I smiled back. “No doubt. If you would each take one of the cardinal directions out on the balcony.” They hastened to oblige. Instead of going to the sand table, I went to the center of the map of Calanthe, smiling wryly at myself for lifting my weight off my heels so as to tread lightly. I’d observed to Con in the past that it amused me to see how tentatively visitors moved over the glittering mosaic, though we had no such qualms about treading on Calanthe Herself. Even I was not immune from the nicety, however.
Standing in the midst of Calanthe, my foot touching the haft of Con’s rock hammer, I gathered the dreamthink to me, simultaneously stretching my senses to the vast circle that was my realm, from her boundary waters to the geographic heart of the island—and into the sleeping mind of Calanthe, my mother goddess. She murmured dreamily to me, and I soothed Her. I wouldn’t need Her might. Not just yet.
I checked with Vesno first, the wolfhound greeting me with overwhelming joy. Con and Percy were still aboard the Last Resort, the citadel looming closer so that the smoke increasingly obscured the bright morning light, but they were some distance away yet. So I went on to Ibolya’s mind, finding her amid a bustle of preparation. The atmosphere in the tower room was tense, a grim determination in the faces around her, with a sharp edge of hope.
They wouldn’t move until Ambrose came for them—when Con reached the citadel—so I went back to Vesno. I ended up pacing in circles as I watched their interaction with the harbor guard, and the gambit with putting Con in chains. “Idiot wolf,” I muttered at him.
I wasn’t surprised he hadn’t told me about that part of his plan—as I would’ve argued strenuously against it, along with the incredibly foolish tactic of actually chaining himself to the bomb—but I also marveled at his courage. I knew well of his vows never to be chained again. Except for a brief time when I’d taken him prisoner, he’d managed it, too.
“Never again, my wolf,” I murmured to him. “After this, never again.” If he survives. I banished the traitorous doubts.
It took some time for them to sail into the harbor and negotiate with the guards to bring Vesno, then to travel to the throne room, so I checked back with Ibolya. Just in time, too.
A knock at the door had them all scurrying to hide their preparations as a guard opened the door and stuck his head in. “Syr Wizard here to see you. Behave yourselves now.”
A tall wizard in a deep purple strode into the room. Ibolya tried to hide herself from his view, her heart climbing into her throat with acid fear, but his amber eyes fastened on her. Tipping his hood back, he gave her a narrow smile, the granite cast of his long face altering very little, but lighting his eyes. He reached up into his long black hair and withdrew a raven’s feather, twirling it briefly and letting it fall—and Ibolya breathed a sigh of relief.
“By order of His Imperial Majesty, Emperor of All the Landss,” Merle declared to the group, “you are to be moved to a place of safety. You will be peaceful and compliant.”
A few of the nobles looked nervously