The Stones of Resurrection Page 19

  A surprised male voice asked his partner if he’d extinguished the light. He hadn’t. Another light appeared, floating close to the man’s face. Taryn recognized him as Celia’s friend from earlier in the evening—Aomori. She didn’t recognize the other man.

  Taryn blew a kiss to the men. The orb blinked out yet again.

  “Tinsley.” Aomori’s terse whisper came from the darkness. “Stop playing games.”

  “I’m not. Perhaps you aren’t focusing enough.” They ducked under a tree and were lost to her sight and hearing. She wished them much happiness in their endeavors. A blaze lit forth from the trees several yards from where she last saw them. The sound of angry footsteps, followed by hurried shuffling, was the last she heard of the men.

  She sat straight in her chair, the realization that she’d blown out their light as clear to her as the starlit night.

  It wasn’t possible.

  She didn’t have ShantiMari.

  She held her palm in front of her and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

  “Glowing orb,” she commanded. Nothing happened. Next, she concentrated all her thought on the empty space above her palm. “Ball of light.” Still nothing.

  The crushing truth that she wasn’t gifted with power flooded over her. As much as she hated to admit it, she’d wanted to be like the others. To be special.

  She sighed the last of her hope and whispered, “Light.”

  A faint spark flickered in her palm.

  She jumped, nearly knocking herself out of the chair. “Light,” she said with more confidence. A near-transparent flame danced above her palm. Taryn’s heart beat with such ferocity she feared it would burst.

  She wanted to run shrieking down the halls, showing everyone what she could do, but stopped herself. Before she told anyone, she needed to be certain it wasn’t a fluke. For most of the night, she practiced making flames, and eventually floating orbs, sending them out the window to hover in the garden. Several times, she almost dropped one on an unsuspecting passerby and had to duck beneath her window to keep from being caught.

  When she was too tired to keep her eyes open, let alone the balls aloft, she fell asleep with her palm flat, an orb of light dozing silently upon it.

  It was the perfect ending to an imperfect night.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Not only did Carga agree to let Taryn use the kitchen, on the condition she teach the cook how to make this mysterious pizza dish, she offered to accompany Taryn to the market. They left the palace grounds by a side gate, and Carga steered them through the shoppers with trained efficiency. Despite her slim form, she muscled her way around the crowds, her short hair bouncing with the effort. Taryn’s cynfar kept up a constant buzzing while they shopped, annoying her. Once they had all the items Taryn needed for her pizzas, they went to a tavern for their midday meal. They were nearly finished when her pendant sent an angry zap against her skin.

  “Shit,” Taryn swore under her breath, rubbing her chest. “What the hell?”

  Carga’s concerned look was more of the have-you-lost-your-mind kind of expression. Taryn took a sip of her mead and glanced around the tavern. When her gaze settled on a man sitting in a booth not far from them, she had the odd sensation she’d seen him before, even though he wore a dark cloak with the hood pulled low over his face.

  “What’s with him?” Taryn motioned to the man.

  She looked where Taryn indicated. “Who? I see no one.”

  Icy chills slithered down Taryn’s neck. “There’s a man sitting right there. He’s wearing a dark hood.” The cook shook her head. “He’s right there, watching us. I can feel him.”

  Carga quietly slid her dagger from its sheath, then lifted her mug and called out, “To the duke!” Everyone in the tavern raised their cups, echoing her cry. Without warning, she threw the dagger straight into the man’s chest.

  Taryn watched in horror as it went through him, plunging into the wood. He slid from the booth, grinning at them, his yellow teeth catching the light from a nearby candle. When he brushed past her chair, she shuddered at the frigid air.

  “Did you feel that?” Taryn challenged Carga.

  The cook’s face paled. “Yes.” She retrieved her dagger from the bench and tossed several coins on the table before grabbing Taryn’s sleeve. “We must return to the palace.”

  Taryn clutched her basket and hurried after her. There was no sign of the shadowy man on the streets, and even if there were, she wouldn’t have known because Carga nearly sprinted to the palace. When they passed the stables, she slowed to a walk until they reached the kitchens.

  Panting, Taryn grabbed her arm. “Who was that man?”

  Carga brushed her aside. “He is no one. Nothing. You do not need to worry about him. He is my problem.”

  “What did he want from you?”

  “What does every man want from a woman? Now, we have work to do, yes? You are going to make something delicious for us to eat. No more talk of what happened at the tavern. He cannot come here, so you need not worry.” After she unpacked her basket, she wrapped an apron around her waist before handing one to Taryn. “Work, yes?”

  Taryn kept herself too busy to think about the shadow man while they made dough and sauce. The sounds and smells of the kitchen were intoxicating. She loved the dynamic between the cooks and scullery maids, like a dance performed to the tune of spoons stirring and pans clanging.

  By the time the pizzas were ready to go into the bread oven, the sun was dipping low in the east. Carga sent a page to gather Taryn’s friends while they set a table in the kitchen garden. At first Carga objected, but Taryn assured her that where she came from, eating outside was perfectly fine.

  They were just setting the food down when her guests arrived. Hayden brought two additional people with him, Lords Tinsley and Aomori. Taryn greeted them without any hint she knew of their rendezvous the night before.

  When everyone was seated, she stood at the head of the table, indicating the food before them. “This is my small way of showing you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” She looked at the duke. “Back home, we call this pizza. It isn’t as fancy as you’re accustomed to, but it’s one of my favorite meals. I wanted to share it with you. Enjoy.” No one moved as she helped herself to a slice.

  Tessa stood and leaned over the pizza. “It smells divine, but it looks unfinished.”

  “Just take some and try it.” She served herself salad and breadsticks before passing them to the duke. “Here you go, Your Grace.” She indicated a bowl. “You can eat them plain or dip them into the sauce.” She dipped a breadstick and took a bite.

  Rather than making her homesick, the tang of the tomatoes and garlicky dough evoked in her a feeling of being among friends. When no one else moved to eat, she gave a snort of disgust. “Okay, listen up, people. Tonight, we don’t have any servants. It’s feed yourself or go hungry. You are all too spoiled.”

  At that, Baehlon reached out and took two slices. He folded one in half before devouring a large bite. A wide grin broke across his face. With two more bites, the pizza was gone. Bolstered by his approval, the others piled their plates with food. Duke Anje declared Taryn’s pizza his new favorite while Tessa thought it must’ve been sent from the gods.

  “What we really need is some good ale,” Taryn suggested.

  Carga hopped up from the table. “I have a barrel in the back. Brewed it myself.” When she returned with the cask and several mugs, the men cheered the cook. Carga gave a pretty curtsey and blushed. “It is nothing much. Just a recipe I stole from a merchant on his way to the Danuri Province.” She looked pointedly at Aomori, who laughed.

  “If it’s a Danurian blend, then how can it not be excellent?” Aomori’s family was apparently one of the wealthiest in the province. He was fostering with Lord Tinsley for the season to teach him about winemaking, although Sabina argued the Summerlands produced the best vineyards in all of Aelinae.

  “Perhaps you should visit my
homeland and see for yourself,” Sabina said, with more than a little flirtation in her voice.

  Aomori blushed, his olive skin shining in the dusky night, making Hayden’s and Tinsley’s pale faces look bland in comparison. He was more than just pretty; he was gorgeous. High cheekbones, slender nose that met full lips and a sturdy chin—he could’ve been a model.

  “Does the ale displease you?” Aomori asked when she’d stared at him too long.

  The ale was as good as any Taryn had had before. “No, it’s great. Perfect for our meal al fresco,” she stammered.

  “Al who?” Tessa asked around a mouthful of breadstick.

  “It means outside.”

  “What language is it?” Eliahnna asked.

  Shit. Aomori’s good looks and the ale had muddled her thoughts. “Just something I made up when I was a kid. I didn’t have many playmates, so I was forever making up my own languages.” She prayed Eliahnna would accept her crap answer.

  “How creative you are!” Sabina came to her rescue. “Perhaps someday you can teach me one so we can communicate in secret.”

  “Why don’t you just, you know…” Tessa said, tapping her forehead.

  “Tessa,” Eliahnna hissed. “Don’t.”

  “Thank you, Eliahnna, but there’s no need to save my feelings,” Sabina said. “I can’t mind-speak, Tessa. Not only am I lacking in ShantiMari but I don’t seem to possess the ability to converse with my thoughts.”

  “Oh.” Tears brimmed in Tessa’s cornflower blue eyes. “I’m terribly sorry.”

  Duke Anje patted his stomach, breaking the tension. “I didn’t think something so insubstantial could fill me up, but you have succeeded, my girl. I hope you’ve taught Carga how to make this heavenly dish.”

  “I watched everything she did.” Carga gave Taryn a direct look. “And I know every spice she used.”

  “Thanks for reminding me.” Taryn left them to retrieve the small pouch that Tabul, the spice merchant, had given her as a gift for Sabina. When she returned, she handed the bag to Sabina. “The spice merchant said you would like this.”

  Sabina opened it, inhaling the scent. “Oh, he’s right. These are from my homeland. I’ve not smelled this in a long time.” She carefully tied the pouch before tucking it into her dress. “Thank you, Taryn. You have indeed brought me a precious gift. I would like to see this merchant and thank him myself.”

  “I can take you tomorrow,” Taryn offered.

  “I am sure Prince Rhoane would be happy to escort you,” Carga offered. A strange look passed between her and Rhoane, one that gave Taryn pause.

  “I’d like to go,” Tessa piped in, followed by Eliahnna’s plea to join them.

  “The more the merrier,” Taryn agreed.

  “We should be plenty merry now,” Baehlon grumbled. “Why don’t you just invite the whole bloody palace?”

  Taryn served dessert, a modified version of her favorite cookies: chai spiced snickerdoodles with ice cream sandwiched between. Every last bite was devoured by her guests. They passed the evening in genial conversation, and Taryn listened as they discussed everything from politics to the ripening of sargot trees in summer.

  Each time the topic of Talaith was brought up, an excited buzz went through the group. Of them all, only Taryn and Aomori had never seen the capital city.

  Duke Anje pushed himself away from the table and gave Taryn a warm hug. “Again, my thanks for a wonderful meal.” He looked at the sky above them, glittering stars stretched across a dark canvas. “We should dine al fresco more often.” He kissed Taryn’s forehead, lingering for a moment. The heady scent of musk and sweat tickled her nose. “You are quite a surprise, my young friend.”

  “I’m glad you liked it. You’ve been so kind to me; it’s the least I could do. Maybe I could stay here and work for you?”

  The duke chortled, shaking his head. “I don’t think that would be the best use of your talents.”

  He said his goodbyes and the others followed, drifting off into the night. Taryn busied herself clearing the dishes, but Carga stopped her. “You have been in the kitchen all day. I will have someone come do that. Go enjoy the evening.”

  “What about you? I’m sure you deserve a night away from the ovens. Will you join us?”

  Tears sparkled in Carga’s eyes. “You have already given me a much needed break. You allowed me to sit at your table with the duke and princesses. I feel blessed this night.”

  Taryn embraced her new friend. “Me too.” Murmurings from hundreds of voices buzzed in her head. “Did you hear that?” Carga only smiled and shooed her away.

  Rhoane moved in step with her. “What are cheeseburgers?” he asked.

  Taryn looked at him in surprise before laughing. “Baby steps, Rhoane. I don’t know whether you’re ready for those quite yet.”

  They roamed the formal gardens, talking about things some people might consider inconsequential, but when Rhoane took her hand in his to lead her through the orchard, she didn’t remind him of his betrothed.

  To the shadow man from the tavern, she gave not another thought.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The small alcove off the kitchen barely fit both of their bodies, but it was the only place afforded any privacy from the kitchen staff and courtiers with nothing better to do than create scandal. Rhoane pressed himself against the wall, making as much room for the duke’s cook as he could. Still, they were close enough that he could smell lavender and ash, the scents he’d known since his childhood.

  Carga smiled up at him, enjoying his discomfort, he was sure. “Are you certain you do not want to sit and enjoy some grhom?”

  “I would love nothing more and you know it. But this conversation cannot be overheard.” He noted a tightness in the fragile skin around her eyes, a slight dullness of her irises, the sadness that dwelled in their depths. Her eyes had always captivated him, had been filled with more wisdom than mirth, but of late they bore the weight of her sheanna.

  “As you desire.” She tickled up his sternum and grinned at his unease. “Although, if we are found here alone, that will set their tongues to wagging more than an innocent chat in the kitchen.”

  “What more can you tell me about what happened yesterday? There was a man following you? Can you describe him?”

  Carga dropped all pretense of playing her little game, her face serious. “I did not see him. Taryn said there was a man, but I sensed nothing. Until it moved past me. A chill like none I have ever known crept into my spirit.”

  A buzzing touched his thoughts and Rhoane shut out the murmurings of his people. “How can you bear their constant chatter?” The Eleri shared a collective consciousness, one that he could delve into if he so wished, but rarely did. The whisperings were irregular to him, but for someone like Carga, the ancients never ceased speaking.

  “I am used to it. They want to believe I am still their high priestess. I have told them several times that is not the case, but they linger. Some have questions. Some have answers. All of them wish to help.” Her eyes grew distant for a moment, and Rhoane heard the rush of conversations. With a leaden sigh, she opened her eyes. “Even they do not know what tracks the Darennsai.”

  Her short curls danced around her face as she shook her head. Two Eleri, exiled from their homeland. Sheanna to his people. He tried to see her as often as he could, but even those visits he kept short. The less attention he drew to them, the better.

  “You are certain he was after Taryn?”

  “I am sorry, Rhoane. She is in great danger, but I do not know how to find this apparition. There is evil in this world we cannot see, a force that beckons to be released. If it should come to pass, not even she can save Aelinae.”

  “Can you name it?”

  “Nay. My sight is limited. Once my sheanna is lifted, perhaps then I will know more, but for now, know that my dreams are shrouded in blackness.”

  It was not the news he was hoping to receive, but unsurprising nonetheless.

  “
I will do what I can to protect her while she is in Paderau, but once she leaves this city, my power is useless.”

  Rhoane pressed his lips against Carga’s forehead, hearing again the stirrings of his people. “That is all I can ask.” A yearning swept over him, and he tamped it down to the dark place inside where all his disappointments dwelled.

  “You are going to search for him.” It wasn’t a question. “Be safe, mi carae.” She rested her forehead against his. “When next we meet, may it be in sweetness and not sorrow.”

  “When next we meet.” Rhoane brushed her cheek with his lips and slipped from the alcove, checking the area before he left from a side entrance.

  THE garments he wore, a rough linen poncho over a tunic and breeches of the same fabric, helped him blend into the crowd of the busy marketplace. He trailed Taryn and the princesses, keeping a discreet distance, as they stopped at stalls every so often to barter with the merchants and purchase items. Aside from several rambunctious children, all was in order.

  Taryn cast furtive glances around the square, her eyes always seeming to find where he was hiding. When she looked closer, Rhoane disappeared into the crowd. At least he hoped.

  Baehlon and a half dozen of the duke’s guard watched over Taryn and the younger princesses. A few of them cut curious stares his way, but made no move to initiate contact. When finally the group left the market and returned to the palace, Rhoane roamed the area, using his ShantiMari to search for any abnormalities.

  At twelfth bells, he made his way to the tavern where Carga said Taryn saw the man. Several patrons watched him with apprehension. A peasant of his stature would have enough coin to visit such a place, if only once a moonturn. Rhoane tipped his weatherworn straw hat at them and entered the darkened building. Nearly all of the tables were crowded with the city’s inhabitants escaping the heat of the day and enjoying the coolness of the tavern.