Lady of Stone Page 2

  Thana couldn’t begrudge him the sigh and a touch of embarrassment. His mother’s taste for beautiful women was legendary, and though she never shirked her royal duties, her private appearances when a new lover was on the scene were practically nonexistent. Even among her family.

  “I should be here in the palace in case she needs me,” Thana mumbled.

  Gunnar gave her a look but said nothing. She knew what that meant. What would the queen need her pyradisté for when she was safely ensconced in the royal apartments behind hallways full of protective pyramids?

  But Thana added another reason the queen wouldn’t need her: She wasn’t a very good pyradisté.

  Gunnar would never say that, though.

  He put a hand on her shoulder. “I need you. What if some over-amorous noble or courtier leaps upon me in the seclusion of the garden?”

  “You can fight them better than I can.”

  “What if they use magic?”

  “A noble would never stoop so low.” She used a mocking tone of indignation. “There are no noble pyradistés, and they wouldn’t stoop to use a pyramid that some lowly peasant made for them.”

  His affectional pat turned into a clap. “C’mon, Than. I need at least one member of the Order at my elbow, even if no one knows it but us.”

  Right. She couldn’t forget that being the monarch’s pyradisté also meant being in the Order of Vestra, the covert organization that protected the Umbriels and helped keep the secret that they all bore a Fiend. It was a necessary but unpleasant evil that had to remain secret at all costs.

  Thana could help repress the Fiends if needed—she had enough skill for that—but could she subdue criminals or stop traitors? Hurl destructive pyramids of her own making and swing from the rafters into danger?

  Give her a book and a cozy blanket any day.

  She thanked the ten spirits that all the Umbriels wore a Fiend suppression necklace under their clothing. Unless they became overly angry, it would keep their Fiends safely out of the way. Legend said that a strong enough emotion could break the necklace and let the Fiendish Aspect out, but she’d never seen that for herself.

  Since Gunnar had given her a pitiable look after his argument, she went to the spirits-cursed party. She’d taken an oath, too flattered when the queen had asked her to be the royal pyradisté for anything else. It hadn’t occurred to her until later that they’d only asked her because she was Gunnar’s friend. She did know everything there was to know about pyramid magic. She’d even studied with Allusian pyramid users, all the way to the east outside of Farraday’s borders.

  But powerful and energetic she was not.

  She supposed she needn’t be either to stand around in a black cassock under the hot sun at a garden party surrounded by sneering nobles.

  Lucky for her.

  She trailed Gunnar for a little bit, but he was in his element, surrounded by attractive, fawning minions dressed in the latest fashion of short-waisted jackets and tight trousers that ended at the knee, showing off silk stockings and crossed garters. Some bore bustles of tiered ruffles that splayed behind them as they walked, rather like a bird’s plumage. Thana wondered how often they had to practice to keep the large feathers in their sleek hats from knocking into one another. Maybe they’d get tangled up and go down in a heap.

  She’d have to practice not laughing her head off.

  She let them get ahead of her and tried to enjoy the garden. Gunnar didn’t really need any protecting. He was just trying to get her out into nature and sunlight and around people, three things she detested but that he felt necessary for a person’s well-being. But without something to read, the garden was just another sort of frippery. She turned down a lonely path, and a flash ahead caught her eye. She paused, frowning before stepping forward, thinking of pyramid crystal, but it was only some ornamentation on a noble’s sleeve.

  The noblewoman stood along the path ahead near the decorative inner wall, staring at nothing. As well-dressed as the rest of them, she was clad in varying shades of green, and the cut of her clothing showed off her trim waist and the swell of ample breasts. Her bustle curled across her back, the hanging fabric nearly shrouding her hips, giving them an enticing fullness.

  Thana cursed herself for admiring a noble, even one so…well-appointed.

  This one wore no hat, and the sun caught her pale curls, a shade blonder than the prince’s, nearly white. She turned, and Thana’s mouth went dry at the sight of her tanned skin, round cheeks, and wide, mint-green eyes. Her full lips turned down in a frown or a pout, and she sighed as if infinitely sad.

  Thana shook her head. The last thing she needed was to develop an obsession with some stuck-up, albeit beautiful, melancholic noble. She began to turn away when the noblewoman stiffened as if given a vision of her own grave. Thana looked for the source of her alarm but saw nothing.

  When the noblewoman began to shake, Thana stepped forward to ask if she was all right, but the woman fell to her knees, and the ground let out an alarming rumble. Thana grabbed hold of a tree, her mind whirling, but before she could guess what was happening, the wall behind the noblewoman bucked like a runaway horse, the stones shifting and melting together before lurching toward the noblewoman like a wave, threatening to bury her.

  Thana ran, heart pounding. She hit the noblewoman and heaved, carrying both of them out of the way before the stone crashed down. Thana rolled away from a spray of dirt and reached into her pocket for one of her pyramids. It was only half the size of her fist, but it blazed with enough light for ten of its kind. The five sides shifted like the wall had done, distorting the smooth crystal. Thana dropped it with a hiss, mystified about what was happening. She pulled another, a mild explosive pyramid that might weaken the foundation of the wall which was currently lifting again as if for another strike.

  Desperate, she chucked the pyramid, trying to ignore her panic. The tinkle of breaking crystal disappeared in a roaring explosion. Thana gasped as the force of it hit her in the chest, knocking her down before shock had a chance to do so. Stone flew apart in hunks, showering everything in sharp little strikes.

  Thana winced, wiping the dust from her eyes. Since when could she make a blast like that? She’d never crafted such a powerful pyramid in her life. She couldn’t help a jot of pride.

  The noblewoman moaned, and through a haze of dust, the wall began to rise again, smaller bits rolling back to join the whole. Thana’s pride disappeared in worry. Now what? She patted her pockets, but she’d only brought two pyramids.

  Her first had come through the explosion intact; it was still writhing in the grass. Thana pushed to her feet and lurched toward it, not knowing what else to do but eliminate whatever strangeness she could find. With a prayer to the spirits that this one wouldn’t explode, she smashed the pyramid under her boot.

  After a horrid grinding sound, the wall collapsed. Thana took a moment to breathe, a thousand questions hurtling through her mind. She listened for more commotion but heard nothing. Gunnar would be all right. He could defend himself against a mundane attack better than she could, and the only magic seemed to be centered on this woman.

  The noblewoman coughed and blinked, head lifting, her pretty features contorted in pain and fear. “Please,” she said, her voice hoarse. “They can’t know it was me. Please.”

  Thana hesitated, but voices echoed from the garden in all directions. They’d be coming to find the source of the blast.

  “You don’t know what they’ll do to me,” the noblewoman said.

  Whatever else had happened, her fear was real, and Thana knew what it was like to have one’s power be misunderstood. She rushed to the noblewoman and hauled her upright. Rumors circulated about areas of Farraday where pyradistés were still shamed or worse. She didn’t have time to ask. She hauled the noblewoman into a clump of bushes and lowered her to the ground.

  “Regain your strength, then sneak away.”

  “Thank you.” Her grip tightened on Thana’s sleeve. “Thank you.”

  Thana fought embarrassment, but her cheeks still burned. Gunnar would have known what to say to make the noblewoman swoon, but Thana could only mumble, “Welcome,” before she returned to the shattered wall.

  * * *

  Sylph sat in the clump of bushes and tried to breathe. The fact that she didn’t know what had happened should have unnerved her, but she’d become used to being unaware of what was going on from an early age. Her father had simply ordered her about, ensuring he got what he wanted and only preparing her for the future he’d planned.

  So she wasn’t really worried about why she’d been standing in the garden feeling miserable one moment and the next, the world had gone mad. She just knew what she’d felt when all the chaos had erupted: every single emotion. They’d boiled inside her. Anger, joy, regret, and so many more had rushed through her veins too quickly to sort one from another. She’d shaken from the force, nearly crying out when they’d wrenched free before she could burst. All she could think was stop, stop, stop! She’d have done anything to make the rushing cease.

  The feeling of being hit, falling, rolling, had done nothing to soften the spirits-cursed feelings. She’d barely felt the sensations outside her body. Even the boom, the rush of air, the tiny impacts of stone against her skin had seemed as if they happened to someone else.

  At last, the feeling had vanished like warmth on a cold day, and she’d seen a woman who was dark as a raven in a black cassock, with black hair and eyes nearly dark enough to swallow starlight.

  Her savior.

  No, no one could save her because now her father would find out. They’d all find out. This was magic no one would fail to notice.

  She’d pleaded for that not to happen, and the raven had aided her again, hiding her in th
e bushes, but how would that help? Her father would want to know who was responsible for the upset, the source of the magic, and who but Sylph—

  The cassock. A pyradisté. The queen’s pyradisté.

  Sylph breathed a little easier even as the first gawkers burst on the scene. It was chaos as everyone spoke at once, and the raven tried to make herself heard until the loud, icy voice of Sylph’s father cut through it all.

  “Be quiet,” he said. He never raised his voice, but somehow, it always carried. The crowd went silent. They hadn’t even done that for the prince.

  “All is well,” the raven shouted into the pause. She didn’t balk when Sylph’s father turned a glare on her that was worthy of a Fiend from a child’s story. “Just a minor accident with a pyramid that—”

  “Minor accident? You blew a hole in the deuced wall.” Sylph’s father’s face inched from tan to scarlet, making his pale hair stand out like the heart of a flame. “If you can’t control yourself—”

  The raven bristled back at him with enviable heat, increasing her allure tenfold. But the prince stepped forward before the yelling could continue.

  “Let’s leave the magic to those expert in it,” he said. Before anyone could argue that an exploding wall didn’t instill confidence of expertise, the prince held up a hand and continued. “Explanations will be forthcoming after all examinations have been carried out. Right, Thana?”

  The raven blinked at him before color darkened her cheeks, too. “Yes, right. Just what I was about to say.”

  As the prince shepherded everyone but the raven away, Sylph creeped from the opposite side of the bushes. She dusted herself off as she walked, her fear beating inside her like a bird’s wings. After a few deep breaths, she circled a clump of trees and joined the rear of the gaggle of nobles. The courtiers parted like the sea to let her pass, and she hoped she looked as curious and bewildered as the rest of them instead of terrified.

  Her father’s sharp blue gaze cut at her. He dropped back to walk at her side, and the gap between the nobles and the courtiers widened, the entire party separating into natural circles.

  “Where have you been?” he asked in a low voice, his anger a growling bass accompaniment.

  Sylph couldn’t yet speak past her fear. She waved vaguely over her shoulder.

  He nodded as if that explained everything. He wouldn’t question that she’d naturally come toward the chaos. He wouldn’t have noticed her in all the commotion, but then, he rarely did under normal circumstances.

  “Spirits-cursed pyradistés,” he said. “Why doesn’t the queen get rid of the lot? The only need for them is to combat other pyradistés, but if there weren’t any left…”

  Sylph felt his stare as he trailed away. She schooled her face to neutral and met his gaze.

  “There’s a leaf in your hair.” He sounded confused as he removed it. “How did you get dirty?”

  “One of the courtiers jostled me into a tree,” she lied smoothly.

  He frowned hard, appalled. “Spirits curse their hide. Which one? I’ll—”

  “It’s all right, Father,” she said with a bored wave. “I gave them a sound telling off. I don’t even remember which one it was. They’re nearly peasants anyway.”

  He chuckled. “Well done. And the deuced royal pyradisté is a peasant, never mind her manufactured status.”

  “And therefore, beneath our notice.”

  He seemed mollified at this and chuckled again.

  Sylph repressed a sigh of relief. She didn’t share her father’s disdain of the less fortunate, but it was the quickest way to calm his ire or direct it elsewhere. While he was fixated on pyradistés who practiced magic openly, he’d never suspect that she was one.

  Or that the queen’s pyradisté was anything but beneath his notice.

  Chapter Two

  Gunnar kept up his bored facade until the last of the visitors filed away, and then he turned anxious eyes on Thana. “What happened?”

  “I’m not sure. One of the nobles had some kind of…reaction. Maybe to my pyramids. I don’t know.” She grabbed the end of the ponytail gathered at her nape but released it before she could thread the hair nervously through her fingers. Exploding walls were no reason to bring back childhood coping mechanisms.

  “A noble pyradisté?” he asked with a cringe. “They won’t like that.”

  “No, everyone knows magic is for the peasant class. It’s only you noble shepherds who keep us herds in check.”

  He gave her a long, dry look. “We’re not having this argument now. Which noble?”

  Thana saw the large eyes again, the look of terror and despair. “Would you mind if I keep that to myself for now?”

  “Why?”

  “Well, I don’t know her name. And she clearly didn’t want anyone else to know what she can do.” She couldn’t meet his gaze, not knowing how to explain.

  He put his fists on his hips. “If anyone knows how to keep a secret, it’s me.”

  “I know, I know. I just…” She sighed. He’d probably never been told, You’re not one of us, but it had never applied so much. “Just let me talk to her first, please?”

  He mumbled something about not seeing the need for secrecy, but he waved as if relenting. “I do expect to be told eventually,” he said, sounding pouty.

  She chuckled. “And I expect to tell you, but I wouldn’t tell your secrets without permission, either.”

  That shut him up.

  “I need to investigate,” she said, waving at the pile of stone. “Then I’ll have some answers for you.”

  The prospect of knowledge to come seemed to mollify him. He nodded, but she noticed his hand going toward his throat where the pyramid necklace was hidden under his shirt, the magic that kept him and the other Umbriels from transforming into Fiends whenever they became enraged.

  Spirits, she’d only ever seen the transformation once, when Queen Earnhilt, Gunnar, and the crown prince and his wife—both currently at home in the Western March—were safely chained beneath the palace for the Waltz, the ritual that pacified Yanchasa the Mighty, the great Fiend slumbering under Marienne. If they didn’t perform the ritual periodically, Yanchasa would awaken and destroy the city, the country, and probably the world. So the Umbriels carried an Aspect of the Fiend, a little part of its nature, and a pyradisté used that Aspect during the Waltz to pacify Yanchasa. It was a burden they had to bear, a secret that could never be revealed, and the reason the Umbriels had to remain in power.

  And the reason she had to keep her position even when she wanted to walk away. If her friend could carry around something so vicious inside him, the least she could do was watch his back. Not that Gunnar would ever need her for that, not when he could remove his necklace and unleash his Fiend if he was ever in real danger.

  “Hey,” he said.

  She realized she’d been staring at where his necklace was and met his concerned gaze before looking away. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right.” He cleared his throat, sounding as embarrassed as if she’d been ogling him. “It’s a nervous habit I need to break.”

  Thana glanced around, but they were quite alone now. “Have you ever been tempted to take it off? When an enemy has backed you into a corner?”

  He snorted and patted his hip where his sword rested. This one seemed a decorative piece, the grip and hilt slathered in gold and jewels, but the blade hidden in the sheath was as sharp as any other, a metaphor for Gunnar himself. “My skills have sufficed so far.”

  True. And what he couldn’t do, his old pyradisté had managed. Thana flinched at the thought that she’d have to go on a mission one day and be the Order’s magical arsenal. She sighed, letting her shoulders slump.

  “You’ll do fine,” Gunnar said, resting another damned sympathetic hand on her shoulder.

  “Stop pretending you can read my mind.”

  “Stop being so easy to read.”

  She snorted and waved toward the trees. “Catch up with your sycophants before they come looking for you. I’ve got an investigation to conduct.”

  He left without another word. She started shifting through the rubble, thanking the spirits that this wasn’t the only barrier keeping riffraff out of the garden. A larger wall stood in the distance, one that encircled the entirety of the massive gardens. It was unadorned and harder to scale than this smaller wall, and it kept most people out. But the shorter one was the more dangerous.