Page 81 of The Ragpicker King
“It was tales of the Gods,” said Kel. “Montfaucon came dressed as Aigon, God of the sea, and ruined all the carpets.”
Conor turned to Anjelica. “My mother will already have chosen the food and decorations. But I think it would be suitable for you to choose the theme for the costumes, my lady.”
Anjelica clapped her hands together in delight. “Beasts,” she said promptly. “Each person to mask themselves as the animal they feel they resemble most.”
“Resemble? I thought masks were supposed to hide who you are,” said Kel.
“On the contrary, one’s choice of disguise reveals a great deal,” Anjelica said. Her expression was unchanged, but Kel thought he could hear the smile in her voice. “Kellian, you could be a chameleon, that creature which disguises itself so well as others. And you, my lord”—she turned to Conor—“you would be a lion, for you are Castellane.”
“And you,Ayakemi?” said Conor.
“You will have to wait and see.” Smiling, Anjelica got to her feet. To Kel’s surprise, she leaned in and kissed Conor on the cheek. “It is kind of you,” she said, “to think of something for me to do.”
She turned and walked away in the direction of the Castel Pichon. A blue-tinged moon had risen, and her pale-white shawl gleamed under the light. As Kel watched, he saw Kurame emerge from the darkness, a fluid shadow, to join his sister.
“Sit with me,” Conor said, interrupting Kel’s reverie. He had lain down on the broad fountain’s edge and was looking up at the sky. “I find I am in an oddly good mood. Let us drink together and count the stars.”
Kel did as Conor had asked. He leaned back on his hands, braced against the tile, and gazed up at the sky. The moon seemed to be playing a child’s game with the clouds, darting in and out from behind them, never completely seen.
“Is there a reason for this good mood?” Kel asked.
Conor folded his arms behind his head. One day, Kel thought; one day he and Conor would be able to do this again—to lie side by side, looking up at the stars they had known since they were children—without this distance between them, without this space he could not define or name. “I feel as a sailor must,” Conor said,“when he has been out at sea for a long time, and now he can finally see the land.”
Kel looked down at his Prince. Conor’s eyes were unfocused, as if he were not looking at the sky at all, but past it, at something else. “Did you find what you were looking for in the library the other night?” Kel asked.
“You know, I did,” Conor said. “I truly think I did.”
Lin slept restlessly that night, and dreamed strange dreams. While she did not dream about the man who burned everything he touched, she did dream of burned hills and valleys, land scorched clean by charring heat.
She woke later than usual and put on a dress of plain gray cambric, with the intention of visiting the Etse Kebeth. She could not help but feel that she had been neglecting Mariam, who was overdue for another healing session. Between the issue of the King’s medicine and her own worry over her upcoming testing, she fretted that she had not been as diligent in her oversight of Mariam’s condition as she should have been. And was not Mariam’s health the whole point of everything, really?
She laced herself into a white pinafore to keep away the dirt, and left her bedroom, still brushing her hair. She ought to eat something, too, though she could perhaps prevail upon Chana to let her raid the kitchen at the Etse Kebeth—
“Good morning, Linnet.”
She nearly shrieked. Her grandfather was seated at her kitchen table, a thin stream of gray smoke rising from the pipe in his mouth. She narrowed her eyes at him. How had he gotten in? Surely he was too old to have begun a new career as a housebreaker.
“Zai,” she said, pointing her hairbrush at him accusingly. “You nearly scared me to death! How did you get in here?”
He did not reply, which hardly surprised her. Out of hisCounselor’s robes, in an ordinary tunic and trousers, he looked older, but the eyes that regarded her beneath bushy brows were as bright and perceptive as always.
“I have a message for you,” he said. “From Prince Conor.”
He slid a folded piece of paper across the table. Lin didn’t ask him if he’d read it; of course he had.
“Did the Prince ask you to deliver it to me?” she asked, picking it up. She could not help but recall what the Prince had said to her: Not all messengers can be trusted. Had he trusted the Counselor?
“No,” Mayesh said shortly.
Lin knew she could press him on the point; she also knew it would accomplish nothing if she did. Unfolding the paper, she read the message, written in a ridiculously elegant hand:
The Palace will be nearly empty this Tearsday. Come to Valerian Square at noon. A carriage will bring you from the square to Marivent. You know what is required of you there.
The Prince had signed it with a string of initials. His full royal name, no doubt, whatever it might be. Lin glanced up from the paper to find Mayesh exhalingpatounsmoke in a thick cloud. He said, “Three days from now, in the main square, the Hierophant of Aigon will give his blessing to Prince Conor and his betrothed, Anjelica Iruvai of Kutani.”
Ah.Lin had known the ceremony was coming, as everyone in Castellane did. It was part of the long march of festivals, processions, and ritual protocols that preceded a royal marriage. She had not known it was this soon.
She wondered why Prince Conor wanted her in the square. It made sense to bring her to the Palace when it would be nearly emptied out, everyone down in the city. But surely it would be easier to send a carriage directly to the Sault?
