Flamecaster (Shattered Realms #1)(100)

Evan Strangward sat back in his chair, putting the tips of his fingers together. “The empress does not share her motivations with me. She is, however, a collector of sorts, with an appetite for the arcane and the exotic.” He paused again, tilting his head, so the light caught his golden earring. “Perhaps that’s all it is.”

Ash struggled to keep the revulsion off his face. Jenna was being discussed like she was a rare piece of art, to be put on display.

“You expect me to believe that your empress is willing to trade an army for a tavern wench with a blemish?”

“Before too much time passes you will meet Celestine in person,” Strangward said, and to Ash’s ears, it sounded like a threat. “It is likely that all of your questions will be answered then. In the meantime, when may I see the girl?”

“Why not now?” Montaigne said. He nodded to Greenberry. “Tell Fleury and DeJardin to fetch her.”





35


OFF TO MARKET


Two servants—Treece and Nettie—came early to ready Jenna for market. They brought a made-to-measure dress in purple silk shot through with silver and gold. They helped her into it, which was a good thing, because it fit like a dandy’s breeches. At least the skirt flared enough that she could walk.

“Purple is a good color for you,” Treece said.

“The gold matches your eyes, my lady,” Nettie said.

Jenna didn’t argue. She sat numbly while they fussed with her hair. It took them a long while, and they argued quite a bit. She guessed that they weren’t top-shelf when it came to chambermaids, but good enough for her. Her hair had been mostly under cover for the past four years, so she wasn’t exactly up to the minute on style. In the end, they pinned it up on the top of her head like a princess in a fairy tale.

“I look like a Solstice cake,” Jenna complained when they were finished.

“Well,” Treece said, “everybody likes Solstice cakes.”

Nettie couldn’t figure out why Jenna wasn’t more cheerful, since she was getting all dressed up. “Look at this, my lady,” she said, displaying a necklace of amethyst and pearls. “Lovely, in’t it?” When she went to fasten it around Jenna’s neck, she sucked in her breath and fingered the magemark on the back of her neck. “That’s lovely, too,” she said. “It’s like you’ve got a permanent brooch on.”

That was one way to think of it.

When they decided she was ready, an escort of blackbirds took her downstairs. She thought she was going to meet the emissary right then, but instead they took her to a tiny room on the main floor, not much more than a closet with a single bed and a washstand and mirror.

“This is the gentleman butler’s quarters,” DeJardin said, pausing in the doorway. He was the kindest of the king’s blackbirds. “It’s right next to the king’s suite. We’ll come get you when it’s time.”

Jenna wondered where the gentleman butler was. There was scarcely room to pace, so it was good she’d brought a book along.

She opened her book, but it was hard to concentrate. She didn’t even know what to worry about, because she had no idea why an empress would put out a warrant on her.

Flamecaster!

Jenna flinched and looked around. The room was as empty as before.

I starve in the dark.

“Where are you?” she whispered to the empty room.

Nothing.

Don’t be a loon, Jenna thought, refocusing on the page. She’d been seeing visions all her life. Voices—that was new.

Flamecaster. Help me.

“Shut up,” she hissed. Maybe that was a long-term effect of the poison. It made you lose your mind.

The door to the room slammed open, and Jenna jumped. It was DeJardin and Fleury.

“Who’re you talking to?” Fleury demanded, looking around.

“Nobody,” Jenna said.

Fleury scowled, but he couldn’t exactly argue the point.

DeJardin bowed his head, as if she were a lady, and he was her escort to a party. “It’s time to go, my lady.” He leaned closer. “Take courage.”

The room, as he’d said, was right next door. As soon as she walked in, she was smacked by a dozen sensations. The scent of food and greenery, sweat and salt water. Her heart stumbled when she spotted Adam against the wall in green velvet, his expression grim, his eyes like twin bruises. Next to him stood a young woman in a blue overdress and dark skirt, someone Jenna didn’t know. Also Destin Karn, a crow of Malthus, a richly dressed thane, and the king.

The king! She took a second look. The image was still there. In place of the king’s head was a grinning skull.

Her heart began to thump. What did it mean? Was it because the king was so often the agent of death? Or did it mean that Montaigne was not long for this world? She prayed with everything she had for the latter.

She struggled to focus on the rest of the room. Facing off with the Ardenines were a half dozen exotically dressed foreigners. All glowed as red as a toper’s nose except for one: a fair-haired mage with a cocky look and a blue-white aura.

Karn ushered her forward, his sweaty hand between her shoulder blades. “This is Jenna Bandelow,” he said, “the girl with the magemark.”

Karn didn’t bother to introduce anyone to Jenna, but the fair-haired mage walked toward her, smiling, hands extended, so she guessed he must be the emissary.