Through Stone and Sea - By Barb Hendee & J. C. Hendee Page 0,62

gray undertones of his people. Though venerable by human standards, he was of good age for a dwarf. He had strength and a spark of presence that could goad anyone out of worry and fear. When he sat with her and the royal family, assuring them that all was well with the young prince, his exaggeration still brought them momentary respite.

As the procession took another turn, Reine spotted a deep and broad arch halfway down the next passage’s left wall. When they approached, she found wide double doors of iron set more than a yard deep. There was no latch or lock, no visible way to open them. Only a smooth seam showed where they separated. She looked about the archway for any mechanisms, and her attention caught briefly on the surrounding framing stones.

The vubrí of the five tribes and twenty- seven clans were engraved there. When she came to that of the Meerschaum clan, she turned to stare at Hammer-Stag’s cloth-draped corpse.

When she’d stopped upon the stage, he’d looked ashen in death, and much too old. She couldn’t be certain what it meant, not even after the deaths of the sages so recent in memory. A chill crept up her spine.

“Are you cold, my lady?” Chuillyon asked.

Reine looked up at his feathery eyebrows drawn together beneath his lined forehead.

“No,” she whispered and closed her eyes.

She slipped back to one night, farther back than Hammer-Stag’s kindness or even the first of her husband’s disappearances, back to a happier time. It was a place in memory she often went that still connected her to a life of pretense and a reason for bearing loss.

The first time Reine met Freädherich—Frey—had been on her first visit to Calm Seatt, some seven years past. . . .

King Jacqui Amornon Faunier—or rather Uncle Jac—had been invited for another royal visit to Malourné. He was told to bring whomever he pleased among his family.

Reine’s own parents had passed on long ago, and she’d inherited the duchy. It had never sat well with her. The weight of her station frustrated her, as did nobles sniffing about, circling in upon the unwed niece of a king. Uncle Jac hadn’t once pressured her about this.

He politely dealt with all suitors, for any engagement to her had to be approved by him, and he would never consent unless she did. He handled Faunier’s noble houses with great care whenever one sent a son, brother, or nephew seeking a royal alliance by marriage. Some were not so bad, but Reine had grown tired of being a desired acquisition.

And so, Uncle Jac insisted that his favorite niece—his only niece—join him on this visit with their nation’s staunch ally. His wife, Evonné, would remain to oversee affairs of state, so he needed good feminine company, someone only half as wild as his two sons.

Reine didn’t mind, nor was she fooled by his excuse. Uncle always had her happiness at heart, and she did love the freedom to be abroad at will. It was the way of the Faunier, horse people by ancestry.

She loved her homeland, especially the eastern granite steppes, where she could stand upon high stone ledges and look back across her native land. But a more distant excursion would take her beyond the reach of suitors, if only for a short while. She readily agreed to accompany her uncle for a chance to visit Calm Seatt.

The splendid city didn’t disappoint her, and she couldn’t help finding the third castle of the reskynna a marvel. However, upon meeting the royals of Malourné, Reine felt distinctly out of place.

They were too tall, too pale, too blond, seeming to float in a detached somber serenity rather than walk naturally upon the earth. They made her welcome enough, but even in their reserved hospitality, there was something not quite right in their aquamarine eyes.

Reine especially noted this on the first night.

A grand banquet was held in her uncle’s honor. Along with him and her two cousins, Edelard and Felisien, Reine entered a lavish hall on one upper floor of the third castle. Three Weardas in red tabards stood to either side of the open white doors. And within the long and tall chamber, scores of people in evening regalia gathered in clusters.

They sipped from crystal goblets and polished pewter tankards while waiting to go down to dinner. The place was filled with the humming buzz of their low chatter—and a strange light.

Reine looked up to high iron chandeliers, three in all, along the domed roof.