Keeper (First Ordinance #2)(57)

"Come," I said. I had to work to keep the anger from my voice. Why was Justis doing this to me? He knew I'd been miserable in the kitchen, serving the Black Wing guards.

"Gurnil says you're upset." Dena opened the door wide enough to enter, then closed it quietly behind her.

"I am," I admitted. Just when the ground beneath my feet felt solid around Justis, he managed to unsettle it again. "Why is he forcing me to have a midday meal in the guard's mess?" I asked.

"I thought he wanted to show you off."

"What?" I jerked my head up at Dena's words. "No. I don't believe that for a moment."

"Then I hope it's not too difficult for you," Dena said. "Tell me what happened in Kondar. I really want to know and Ardis couldn't get anything from Justis."

I spent the next hour explaining the events in Kondar, most of it still unresolved. "I wanted to fly out to see the ships," she said, "but Ardis almost had a fit."

"He's just afraid for you—I can't say whether those people on the Sector Two ships are safe to be around."

"But surely when they hear that the wizard lied to them," Dena scoffed.

"Some people want to believe the lie," I said. "It feeds their beliefs at times, or their desires for a conspiracy, when there isn't one. Either way, it's self-serving of Sector Two's politicians to mislead their people, rather than to focus on the real danger. Fyris did the same, under Tamblin's rule."

"He's dead, isn't he?"

"He is," I nodded. "As is Yevil, if what Justis tells me is true."

"It's true—that's all anyone talks about at mealtimes. Nobody had been sent through the gate since Treven, so I suppose it's fitting that his half-blood son followed in his steps."

"I hope you know not to judge all half-bloods by Yevil's standards," I said. "I'm sure most of them would be just like anyone else, if they'd been given a chance to survive."

"I know." Dena studied her hands for a moment. We'd chosen to sit on my bed to have our conversation; I watched Dena's chest rise and fall with the deep breath she took. "Ardis asked me to share his quarters."

"Do you want that?"

"Yes."

"Then there's no problem. Is there?"

"No. I just hope he doesn't tire of a plain Yellow Wing and look for something better."

"Why would you call yourself a plain Yellow Wing?" I asked. "There is nothing plain about you, and your wings are lovely. Black and Yellow look quite fine together."

"Shall I wear black clothing, then, to say I am his?"

"If you want," I said. "The color you wear should be your choice, don't you think?"

"You make things sound so simple," Dena sighed. "I told my mother about Ardis, and, well."

"She put that notion in your head—that he may look for something else?"

"She can't help it. She has brown wings. My father has yellow."

"Why do people think they're better than anyone else? It makes no sense to me," I flung out a hand. "Your deeds will always speak louder than any wing color you may wear," I said. "Look at Halthea. Most know she acted no different when she wore yellow wings. She was exactly the same—mean, greedy and vicious. It would be the same if she'd worn black or green wings."

"She was favored consort to the King," Dena said.

"He was blinded by her wing color, too, never forget that. I understood what she was the moment I saw her."

"You can't say those things within the King's hearing," Dena whispered.

"I know. Politics and monarchs will always be the same, no matter what. Look, what shall I wear to this midday meal? Bear in mind they'll likely dump the food on my head rather than serve it properly."

*

"You look nice," Justis said. So far, I hadn't spoken to him. He hadn't asked me about going to the Guard's mess. If he had, I'd have said no. He'd been drilling his guards when I arrived, so I wasn't upset about that. He had work to do, just as most others did.

"Dena dressed me," I mumbled, refusing to look at him.

She had, choosing one of the tunics and matching trouser sets that Queen Lissa had provided. It wasn't overly dressy, but it was raw silk, in a pale blue. For a midday meal, it was suitable—if I were dining with nobles or the High President.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"No."

"There is." His hand touched my cheek. I jerked away.

"Quin—I know you're upset—Gurnil told me. I think I know why. Come with me this once, all right? You don't have to go back again unless you want to."

He lifted my shaking hands to his lips and kissed them. I sniffled once, forced myself straight and nodded.

*

Moments later, after a short flight over the Castle and then down to the flight balcony outside the Guard's mess, I followed Justis into the castle, entering the same way that guards uncounted had arrived through the years.

Boisterous conversation stopped immediately the moment I arrived and struggled to keep up with Justis' long steps. Just as I feared would happen—all of them stared. Wanting to weep, I kept my eyes on Justis' black wings and looked neither right nor left until we arrived at our table.