mind in the oratory was not making some plot toward Rohan’s disadvantage.
When Roelstra fell silent, Palila glanced up at him. His dark hair was crowned by silvery light, his eyes nearly colorless, the candle in his hand giving off a thin yellowish glow that picked out the strong bones of his face and the sardonic line of his mouth. His gaze met hers and she smiled slightly. How fortunate it was that they understood each other, she told herself. Her position would be a precarious one until she gave him a son, but because she comprehended her lord, she could follow his thoughts and, sometimes, outguess him.
One by one in ascending order of importance, the gathering rose and filed out. They left their candles on shelves to either side of the arching doorway. Palila had the honor of immediately preceding the High Prince and placing her candle next to the place where his would be. It was a privilege no one but his legal wife should have had, but she enjoyed many similar privileges at Castle Crag and guarded them jealously. One day they would be hers by right.
She was tired, and the ornate silver pins holding her veil in place were giving her a headache. Yet when everyone went down to the copious supper laid out in the main hall, Palila did not join them. Neither did she seek her bed. She returned to the oratory and picked her way carefully through the moonlit chamber to the outer curve of crystal. Crigo would be here soon, to ride the moonlight to Stronghold. He often performed such small services for her without Roelstra’s knowledge, for it was Palila from whom Roelstra got the supply of dranath.
The muted whisper of the opening door made her turn, the Sunrunner’s name hovering on her lips. But it was not Crigo who entered. It was Pandsala.
Palila covered her startlement and hoped Crigo had the sense to listen outside before opening the door. She smiled sweetly at the princess and asked, “Why, whatever are you doing here?”
“I might ask the same thing of you.” A little smile played about Pandsala’s mouth, visible even in the dimness. It made Palila nervous. The princess walked forward with stately grace along the white carpet, almost as if she came here in her wedding procession. “It certainly isn’t grief for the old prince that brought us back. Actually, I don’t know why you came and I don’t care, except for the fact that we’re alone. A rare circumstance, isn’t it?”
“Yes. But why do you want to talk to me alone, Pandsala?” Her mind seethed and she raked the girl’s gown with her gaze. Knife? Vial of poison? Who would suspect a princess of murder? The son Palila was sure she carried was a threat to all the daughters. Perhaps Pandsala had been delegated to remove the threat. There were enough strangers at Castle Crag to blame it on, enough people who hated her to make the list of suspects practically endless.
“Won’t you sit down?” Palila invited, reasoning that a seated enemy would be easier to outrun than a standing one.
“Stop playing lady of the castle, Palila,” the other woman snapped. “I am the princess here, not you—no matter what state my father keeps you in. I don’t like you any more than you like me, but we can be of use to each other.”
“In what way, my dear?” She put amusement into her voice, but sensed that control of this had gone beyond her grasp, and was frightened.
Pandsala’s long fingers trailed over the chairbacks as she approached, the smile pale on her face. “First let us discuss how you may help me,” she suggested. “I’m not a fool, as you well know. I have ears and a brain. And my ears have heard interesting things which my brain tells me can be worked to my advantage.”
Palila began to understand, and relaxed slightly. “Prince Rohan requires a wife, and you intend to be the chosen lady.”
“Make Father see me,” the princess urged. “You can do it, Palila.”
“Why should I?” she responded with a carelessness she was far from feeling. “Ianthe would be the best choice.”
“Could Father be certain of controlling her? Ianthe cares only for Ianthe.”
“While you are the perfect, loving, loyal daughter,” Palila sneered.
“Gently, gently,” Pandsala murmured, her smile gone and her dark eyes sunk in shadows. “Begin thinking of me fondly, I warn you.”
“Why should I?” Palila was beginning to enjoy this.