A trickle of fear flowed into her, and she was tempted to pull away. Seven gods, what if he messed up, and she lost her eyesight completely? But she trusted Trip. He wouldn’t mess this up. Even if something went wrong, he would fix it. He fixed everything.
Trip blinked a few times, and she noticed moisture in his eyes. His fingers moved on her face, stroking her cheek. She hoped his touch and his emotion were because he was reading her thoughts and was moved by her trust, not that he feared he’d messed up and she would surely go blind.
One corner of his mouth quirked up. Do you feel blind?
No, but—
His eyebrows lifted, and she realized the itching and tingling had stopped. She turned to look toward the front of the gathering, and her mouth dangled open. She could see. Everyone and everything in the gardens was so crisp and clear, she couldn’t believe it. Even with her spectacles, she hadn’t seen things in the distance this well.
“You did it,” she whispered. “Will it last?”
“It’s possible it won’t last your whole life, but I think I can correct it again if necessary. And it would be a gradual diminishment, nothing that would happen overnight.”
She wanted to hug him, but she wanted to stare at everything and everyone around her too. And the flowers. She could see the individual petals on the roses from twenty feet away.
“Trip,” she blurted, whirling back to him and grabbing his arm. “You—I—” She gave up on words and kissed him.
“Is that allowed?” came a whisper from behind her. “I thought only the king got to kiss people today.”
“If a woman wants to kiss you, it’s always allowed.”
Rysha drew back, recognizing the second voice as belonging to General Zirkander, and remembering she and Trip were in the middle of a garden filled with dozens if not hundreds of people. True, they had stepped off the main walkway, but it wasn’t as if she had pulled him behind a bush for private smooching.
“Good afternoon, sir,” Trip said, saluting him and nodding to the officer with him. Captain Pimples.
Rysha hurried to salute as well.
Zirkander also wore his dress uniform, appearing far more ironed and polished than was typical for him. She’d heard he would be one of Angulus’s two kin watchers, along with a seventy-year-old nobleman—Lord Talidraw—who’d been friends with Angulus’s father and had known him since he’d been in diapers. Historically, a king would have had two kin watchers from the nobility, thus to ensure that a suitably healthy—and noble—woman would be chosen and that no sneaky commoners would slide their way into the nobility. A couple of generations ago, King Orlenis, seeking to appease the common man and acknowledge their growing power, had started the trend of including a military man, so Rysha wasn’t surprised that Angulus had chosen an officer. She was surprised he’d chosen Zirkander, since he seemed to find the pilot hero a tad… overly irreverent.
Zirkander returned the salute, but was then pulled off to talk to a general Rysha didn’t know, leaving Captain Pimples behind. Pimples, who wasn’t looking at them.
“Come in, come in,” he said, waving to someone lingering outside the gardens. “I’ll introduce you to all my— No, they’re obnoxious. Never mind. I’ll show you the gardens. And there’s always great food here. Do you want some Iskandian wine? We’ve got all different kinds. Like red. And, uhm, white.”
Rysha might have listed some grapes for him, but Pimples was focused on the bronze-skinned, dark-haired woman in spectacles who poked her head through the doorway leading out to the gardens.
“My brother said to wait for him and his entourage,” she whispered, eyeing her surroundings. “Is this it? It’s so quaint.” She wore a yellow and azure silk dress in a flowing style favored in Cofahre, and appeared to be in her early twenties.
“How big are the gardens at your palace?”
“You can get lost in them. But it’s not my palace.” She crinkled her nose. In distaste?
The words clicked together before Rysha recognized the woman—it had been some time since a photograph of Princess Zilandria had been in an Iskandian newspaper.
“Well, dragons or sorceresses or, ahem, foreign invaders seem to blow up half the castle every few years,” Pimples said, “so I don’t think the king has been motivated to expand and make it more of a target.”
“We’re having similar problems with dragons.”
Trip stirred beside Rysha.
That’s Princess Zilandria? he asked silently. If so, her brother would be…
Trip turned toward the doorway, his eyes getting that distant aspect that meant he was utilizing his power.
Prince Varlok, Rysha thought, though Trip must have already figured it out. It makes diplomatic sense that some of the Cofah would have come for the wedding of a ruler in another country. Admittedly, I wouldn’t have expected their ruler to come—the princess makes more sense. But… Ah, I bet they heard about your weapons platform and came to have a look. Perhaps barter for the schematics.
I suppose that would be up to Angulus, but I’m more concerned about my chance to honor my word to Grekka. This is good. I thought I’d have to take a trip to Cofahre to give the prince that dagger, so he’d have proof of how his father died. But I can just give it to him here. Of course, I don’t have it at the moment. I think the king may have it. I gave it to him to look at when the babies were being removed from the stasis chambers, and then I was distracted, and I didn’t think to ask for it back. I wasn’t sure if I could.
Rysha patted Trip’s arm as Pimples led the princess into the gardens. He looked like he meant to guide her through the crowd to the servants walking around with trays of food, but he noticed Rysha and paused.
“Zia, this is Lady Ravenwood. She’s a scholar. She knows all about dragons and relics and things.”
“Oh?” Zilandria—Zia?—looked Rysha up and down.
She was several inches shorter than Rysha and seemed dubious about Pimples’ introduction, perhaps because of the uniform and sword. Maybe Rysha should take her spectacles back from Trip, so she would look more scholarly.
“It’s an honor to meet you, Your Highness.” Rysha curtseyed, though she wasn’t sure that was the proper etiquette when in an army uniform.
“Do you enjoy academic studies?” Zia asked.
“I do. Mathematics, history, and archaeology. My mother is a professor, and my sister is following in her footsteps. I… wanted to ride dragons and poke things with swords.”
“In Cofahre, only men poke things with swords. I don’t think anybody is riding dragons. Are you?”
“Yes. Her name is Shulina Arya.”
“Really? I would love to meet her. And talk mathematics with you.”
Rysha bowed her head. “I would be honored, Your Highness.”
“You can call me Zia. I’m going to visit the university while I’m here. I’m trying to talk my brother into letting me finish out my studies here. For a more eclectic education. The professors are rumored to be quite good.”
She smiled shyly at Pimples, and Rysha suspected her interest in Iskandian studies had little to do with the university’s professors.
“I’m sure you would enjoy it,” Rysha said.