Page 57 of A Song of Ash and Moonlight

Gemma had told me what to expect when Talan used his power, but I still wasn’t quite prepared for the sensation of it. The air warmed all at once, as I’d suddenly stepped out of gloomy shade into a bright pool of sunlight. His magic rippled gently through the crowd, subduing both them and the guards, whose stern expressions softened into something more solicitous.

“Of course, sir,” said one of the guards, a strapping woman with slightly lined brown skin and cropped white hair. “How can we be of help?”

I hardly listened as Talan spoke. I already knew the lie he would feed the guards: that he hoped to gain access to the royal gardens because they housed a rare type of azalea, which he wanted to study for a book he was writing on botanical oddities of Gallinor. I, his assistant, was there to help him take notes. I kept my head down, too nervous to focus very hard on what he was saying; if there was even a slight flaw in his magic, a single flicker of doubt, one of these guards would surely recognize me.

But soon the guards were grandly ushering us inside with smiling faces and dazed eyes, and the crowd we left behind at the gates waved after us as if bidding beloved family members farewell. I didn’t dare turn back to look at Ryder and Gemma. I followed Talan into the gardens, flinching when the gates clicked shut behind us.

A few steps into the gardens, everything grew quiet, the world outside the great stone wall muffled by the profusion of flowering bushes on all sides. Silver birch branches met like arched rafters over our heads. Talan kept up a steady stream of conversation with the guards, complimenting everything from their uniforms to the shine of their swords to the aesthetically pleasing blend of yellow tones in the autumn-touched gardens. I stuck to his side as much as I could without looking ridiculous; I had it in my head that doing this would somehow protect me from being found out, even though I knew quite wellthat Talan was powerful, talented, and quite practiced at subterfuge. He’d been traveling in disguise for weeks and weeks now, after all, and done it for years before that at Kilraith’s behest; this was hardly his first time using deceptive magic.

But every time we encountered a new guard, in that sliver of time between the guard seeing us and Talan soothing their confusion with his lies, I went cold with fear. Would one of the guards we met be Kilraith in disguise? Would Talan not act quickly enough, revealing my identity to these soldiers and ruining the whole charade?

My tension must have been obvious; at one point, Talan put a steadying hand on my back. Distantly, I heard him say, “Ah! There it is.”

In my panic, I didn’t at first register what that really meant. Talan crouched beside me, inspecting a bright red bloom that might have been an azalea or might not have. “There it is,” he said again, loudly. “How odd for a spring bloom to still be alive here in the early days of fall. Tell me, are any of you familiar with the practices of the elemental groundskeepers in charge of tending these gardens? I have many questions for them.”

Talan gently set his heel down on my foot, and the slight pain helped me snap back to myself.There it is.Those were the words I was meant to be listening for. I looked around wildly, and my heart leaped as I saw through the nearby trees the stone steps that led to my music room’s private veranda. Above it rose the great circular base of the queen’s tower. We were close enough now for me to run.

I glanced down at Talan, who looked absurd there on the ground, spectacles at the end of his glamoured nose and a flower cradled in his palm. I noticed a bead of sweat on his temple and felt a thrill of fear; a hundred terrible scenarios raced through my mind. He was tired; his magic would soon give way; the ward magic latticed throughout the gardens was killing him.

But Talan gave me a slight firm nod, and a swell of warmth rippled through the air—a fresh surge of his magic, I assumed, reinforcing his hold on the guards.

I turned and fled, racing along the garden paths and up the steps. Layers upon layers of ward magic gave way at my approach, as if I were pushing through invisible fleshy membranes meant to protect something precious from invaders. But I was no invader; this magic knew me to be as much a part of the queen’s tower as the stones in its walls.

I burst into my music room, feeling a thrill of equal parts triumph and unease to find the doors unlocked. Once inside, I locked them behind me and leaned against the wall to catch my breath. My mind spun wildly; I needed to think. There would be guards stationed all through the tower, especially if Thirsk and the other advisers were determined to keep Yvaine as sequestered as possible. But years ago, Yvaine had installed a secret bellpull in this music room, hidden behind stacks of sheet music and spelled by a beguiler to reveal itself only to me. The bell on its other end sat in a tiny silver locket that Yvaine always wore hidden underneath her clothes. Wherever she was in the palace, she would hear its chime.

I hurried to the shelves where it was hidden, found the tasseled velvet cord, hesitated. If I rang this, Yvaine would know I was here and come at once. But if they were watching her as closely as I feared they were, and if she was too ill to defy them—

“Farrin?” asked a small, hopeful voice.

I turned and saw a flurry of white hair and peach chiffon just before Yvaine barreled into me. She threw her arms around my neck and buried her face in my hair, and I held her to me for a long moment, feeling shaky with relief. Tears pricked my eyes as I tried to remember the last time we’d been alone and together and well, or well enough. The night of the ball, the night she’d gone mad by the sinkhole, I’dhelped her sleep afterward, but there had been guards everywhere, watching us like hawks, and she’d hardly realized where she was, let alone that I was there beside her.

This felt different. This felt dear and familiar.

I pulled back from her a little, hating that I had to, hating all the questions and demands I would soon throw at her. She must have sensed my discomfiture; she looked at me hard and then dropped back down to the floor, light as a feather.

“You’re afraid of something,” she said. “Come sit. Tell me.”

I let her lead me to the sleeping couch tucked into the corner of the room. A stack of books sat beside it, and several half-full cups of cold tea, and a plate or two scattered with crumbs. There were slippers on the rug, quilts draped over the cushions.

“Have you been sleeping here?” I asked.

She sat delicately on the edge of the sofa, looking sheepish. “I hope you don’t mind. It’s the only place I can find some peace. Thirsk and I worked out a bargain. I can have my privacy here as long as I don’t leave. And I haven’t, and I won’t. Being here, I can almost pretend you’re with me.” She let out a sad little laugh. “I suppose I should have worked harder to make friends here in the Citadel, friends other than you. But the truth is, most people don’t treat me like a person. They treat me like a queen. And that isn’t a trustworthy basis for friendship.”

I took a breath and sat beside her, choosing my words carefully. Her own felt ruthless, cutting me to pieces before I could even begin. “I have much to talk to you about,” I said quietly, “but first, I have to ask you a private question, one that will seem silly on the surface. But it’s important to me, and I hope you’ll take it seriously.”

Yvaine’s expression brightened. “I’m intrigued. And I always take you seriously. Ask me.”

I forced myself to look straight at her. “You know about the shining boy.”

She nodded gravely. “Of course.”

I felt a rush of gratitude. She had always accepted my story about him, had not even once tried to dissuade me from holding on to his memory so fiercely.

I said the rest in a rush, stumbling over my words. “Lately I’ve been spending more time with Ryder Bask, and I wonder…I hate to ask it of you, but I know you have the abilities to read things, to search the world for people, to probe past and future, even if only vaguely. And I never—never—want to take advantage of our friendship. But, gods, Yvaine, I know it’s absurd, but I’ve had these strange feelings, these…thesetwingesof something I can’t name, and I’m so curious—”

“You’re wondering if Ryder was your shining boy,” she finished gently.

I nodded, burning with embarrassment. Hearing Yvaine say the words out loud made the question seem all the more ludicrous.

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