differently than I did before. Losing everything … it changes you, doesn’t it?”
I met her gaze and smiled ruefully. “I think it does—though I don’t have much basis for comparison.”
“I wonder why you married Me,” she said, almost conversationally.
“What?” I shook my head. “I thought you didn’t want to discuss this.”
“Not the future. The past.”
“You know why I married you.”
“Yes, the prophecy and all.” She waved that away. “But you had to hate Me, and everything I represented, long before I took you prisoner and threatened to execute you.” She fluttered lashes at me that looked like new ferns.
“I didn’t even know you existed until Ambrose showed me the stuff about the Abiding Ring at the tower of Keiost,” I pointed out.
“And what did our wizard tell you about Me?” She glanced over her shoulder at Ambrose apparently discussing Sondra’s walking stick. Ambrose was showing her something on its surface, while Ibolya brought up the rear this time, Merle perched on her horse’s shoulder harness, tipping his head as she stroked his feathers.
“You know,” I replied evasively, “the basic stuff.”
I didn’t fool her, though. “And you hated Me.”
“I disliked what you represented,” I corrected. “None of that matters, because I love you now. Once I got to know the woman, you, my Lia…” I shrugged, wishing I had a gift for pretty words. “Well, I love everything about you. I’m sorry if you don’t believe that or don’t want to hear it.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to hear it,” she replied quietly. “I’m … moved that you love Me, and I do believe in it. I think that’s part of what’s changed for Me, personally. Now that I know what it’s like to be truly loved—and I think you might be the only person alive who sees Me, the person, no matter how My appearance changes—now that I know what real love feels like, I can’t abide the false versions.”
“There are a lot of different kinds of love,” I offered, after a lapse of silence. “Different doesn’t mean fake or wrong.”
“Such the philosopher,” she noted with a slight smile. “All true. I’ll think about that.” She shook her hair back. “I shall cease dwelling on morose subjects that aren’t important anyway,” she declared loftily. “I intend to be grateful for My many blessings—as instructed.” She gave me a nod. “And I shall concentrate on our very important planning for your mission to Yekpehr. When do you plan to leave and how may I assist?”
15
I hadn’t exactly lied to Con—I was anxious to get back to the business of running my realm. I felt good physically, and there was so much to do to put Calanthe to rights again. More important, I had no desire to spend any more time on my own emotional flailing. Personal feelings weren’t relevant, as my father would say. The only feelings of mine that deserved attention were those regarding the throne.
My job now was to rebuild Calanthe and give Con the best chance at rescuing the captive royals. The more I buried myself in my duties and responsibilities, the easier it would be for me to continue that way once Con returned to Oriel. I refused to let this man who’d walked into my life only weeks before leave a hole when he left. Because leave he would, and I doubted he’d be back.
As we neared the palace, I made mental lists, arranging and rearranging the order of priority of the areas of Calanthe with the worst damage and greatest need of attention first. Taking refuge in logic and order soothed me, and I was ready to put ideas into action.
However, we returned to a festival in progress. Before we even reached the palace grounds, raucous sounds filtered through the usually quiet forest. When we emerged into the gardens, well … it seemed half of Calanthe had come to the palace, the party raging at full steam and apparently growing larger by the moment as people streamed into the gardens from all directions.
Con had his bagiroca in hand and Sondra brought her horse up to flank my other side, her sword drawn, before I fully processed the scene. “What is this?” Con growled.
“Not an attack,” Sondra answered doubtfully, “as it looks to be all Calantheans.”
I looked between the pair of them, incredulous. “It’s a party,” I explained, drawing the word out to imply they might not be familiar with it.
They pinned me with identical glowers. “Did you plan this?” Con demanded, still suspicious.
I managed