We rode past colorful banners and vibrant pinions. The marketplace was awash with sights and smells—from the fresh, minty scent of potted plants to the tantalizing aroma of fried foods and baking bread that reminded my stomach I’d had nothing but a strip of beef jerky in the last few hours. Signs calling for prosperity and luck graced every door. Carts wheeled by, and children raced past older folk, who bore armfuls of clothes and baskets. Occasionally a carriage would pass, too rich and ornate for its inhabitants to give us more than a second glance.
I expected Lady Mykaela to make for the harbor. She had told me that the fastest way to Kion was to take a ship from the port of Odalia in Kneave, as opposed to the monthlong journey it would take on land. When she rode past the street leading down to the rows of ships anchored at the dock and onto the road leading to the Odalian castle, I was surprised.
“We shall stay at the palace for the night, at King Telemaine’s request,” the asha said. “It is the spring equinox, and I draw Heartsrunes for the children in Kneave every year. We’ll leave at first light tomorrow and catch the earliest ship to Kion. Speak up, Fox. I can see the question on your face.”
“I do not mean to cause offense, Mistress. But many Odalians consider it bad luck to offer bone witches a place to stay, even for a night. For the ruler of Odalia to do so would be disastrous in their eyes. How did you manage to convince the king?”
“It was his idea. The royal chancellor and the palace steward have been taken into his confidence, albeit reluctantly, and no one else is aware of our housing arrangements.” She smiled faintly. “And in case you wondered—no, I did not compel him to do it. Drawing Heartsrune for so many at once is a tedious task, but I do it in gratitude to His Majesty.”
I wasn’t sure what to think of the king I deemed responsible for Fox’s death, but my brother only shrugged and said that it was a soldier’s life, and if they blamed the king for every cut and kill and death that they take, there would be no army left in all the kingdoms.
“But wouldn’t that be better?” I asked as we dismounted. Stablehands from the royal stable hurried forward to take the horses’ reins. “No armies would mean no war.”
Fox laughed suddenly, though his chest did not rise and fall. “Silly girl. You are not yet an asha, and you already understand the games kings and queens play? I certainly don’t.”
The castle was open to all who came at this time of the year because, like the spring equinox, this was the custom. The people wore magic on their brows. They painted their lips scarlet with the spells’ fullness and dusted their cheeks with its rouge. I could feel the enchantments woven into their clothes. Lady Mykaela took her time pointing out some of the spells to me so I could commit to memory how they looked and what they felt like. Many arranged elegance in their feather bonnets and solemnity in their tailcoats. Composure adorned a lady’s majestic hat. It didn’t work on me; the overabundance of feathers made her look like she had assaulted an ungainly duck in a past life and wore its skin, and the thought made me giggle.
“Why do they do that?” I asked Mykaela. “Why do they waste magic this way?”
“It is the way of the rich,” she replied, shrugging one silk-clad shoulder. “They commission the ateliers to spin it into their clothes and call it fashion or have apothecaries paint their faces and call it beauty. You are village born and do not understand the way the city’s mind works. The city rich are not like bees in a hive that work together to share honey for all. The city rich are like the jungle apes; they show off their red bottoms and beat their chests because they fear to be culled from the herd if they show weakness. Even the most inferior of runeberries can suffice for this magic, so we let them be.”
“Is that why you don’t wear magic like they do?”
Lady Mykaela grinned at me. “But I am wearing magic, little one. The difference is that it is woven so finely into my hua that you cannot detect it.”
The people in this part of the city recognized her too and gave us a wider berth. I walked through the crowd with my head down, the ground suddenly more interesting to study than people. Lady Mykaela was used to the silence and walked with her head thrown back and a secret smile on her lips. Fox brought up the rear and paid no attention when those standing closest shrunk back.
The king and his son stood at the castle gates, welcoming visitors. King Telemaine was a large man of unexpected height. It was easier to imagine him in the smoke of battle or in the aftermath of a bloody duel, not dressed in rich satin robes of dyed purple, with a crown two sizes too small for his head. He had a great black beard clumped against his chin to hide a thin, nearly lipless mouth and bright-green eyes that were more shrewd than clever. His heartsglass was built to size, twice as large as my own but adequate when framed against his massive chest. Beside him was a young boy a year or two older than me, wearing a smaller crown and his father’s eyes. But where King Telemaine’s eyes were a hard and opaque jade, his son’s were deep and gentle emeralds that smiled back despite his serious face. He was easily the most handsome boy I’d ever met. When he caught me staring, I looked away, frantically willing my blush to fade.
“Lady Mykaela.” The king stepped forward, large hands folding over one of the asha’s and hiding it from everyone’s view. “Thank you for coming, as always.”
“It is my pleasure, as always. There is a good crowd here. How many heartsglass are present?”
“Four hundred and eighty in all.”
I started. In Knightscross, it would be a good year if there were more than twenty thirteen-year-olds for the equinox.
“We have even less reason to delay, then. The night grows old. This is my apprentice, Tea Pahlavi, and her brother, Fox.”
“I am enchanted.” King Telemaine was an experienced statesman. The faintest spasm of orange flickered across his heartsglass, but only for the briefest second. I felt an irrational surge of resentment and forgot my embarrassment.
“No, you aren’t.”
Both King Telemaine and Mykaela turned to me; the man was curious and the asha cautioning.
I could understand his disinterest of yet another bone witch in his kingdom, but Fox was a different matter. “My brother died. You told him where, and he went like a good soldier to fight and got nothing but a coffin for his troubles. Surely he deserves more than your indifference”—I gave his heartsglass a pointed glance—“even if it is well concealed.”
Some of those in his retinue gasped, alarmed by my frankness. Lady Mykaela said nothing.
The king threw his head back, revealed two rows of square, white teeth to everyone present, and laughed aloud. “Such spirit in this one! You’ve chosen well, Mykaela! She’ll grow your fangs soon enough.”
“She shows much promise,” Lady Mykaela murmured. “She seems to have learned to read heartsglass with little training.”
King Telemaine turned to Fox. “I am grateful for the services you rendered your kingdom, young man, and I am sorry for the situation that finds you here. I shall talk to my stewards and ensure that your family will want for nothing. It is small compensation, but it is the least I can do.”