'What is it?' I asked, not surprised to feel the sudden sharp pleasure of fear coming from her.
'I don't know. I feel so strange.' Sagra gripped the side of the tub, unable to stop staring at me. If she had a suspicious nature, she might have been wondering if I'd performed some sorcery on her. I doubt it. She seemed far too embarrassed.
The water was getting deep. 'How do we stop it?' I asked.
She shook her head to clear it, then beat on the cold pipe. It stopped. I let the hot run a bit longer, then had her stop it as well. As I leaned back, letting Sagra dry and brush my hair, I began to understand why Peto had been so homesick. One could easily become attached to these luxuries.
Exhausted, I fell asleep in the warm water. Occasionally, dimly, I felt Sagra's hand brush against my foot as she let out a bit of the water, heard her beat on the pipe to send more hot.
I had not brought everything I owned to Sundell, but I did bring the best. I admit that I deliberately chose to take the dresses Peto had ordered for my sister.
That night, I wore the blue-and-gold one, not just because he would think of Marishka when he saw me in it, but also because they were Kislova's colors. It was right that I should wear them tonight. Besides, this was the finest gown I owned.
But nothing could prepare me for the wealth and fashion displayed in Shadow Castle's ballroom that evening. By Kislovan standards, my gown was exquisitely designed and sewn, trimmed in the most delicate hand- crocheted lace. Here it could not compete with the colors and fabrics-and gems! — that decked the bodies of the Sundell women.
One of the women wore a diaphanous gown of pale blue silk that seemed to change color when viewed from different angles. Another had a low-cut bodice and flowing skirts edged with peacock feathers.
I could go on, but to do so would make me sound too much like Marishka. In truth, I did not feel awed by the beauty, only angry that I had not been warned what to expect. My status as Peto's bride made me the center of attention. I danced, sat, dined, and spoke as regally as possible. I think I would have made a good impression even without my perfume. With it on, everyone fawned over me.
Everyone, that is, but Peto's mother. The few words she spoke to me in public were barely civil. When I requested a few moments with her privately, she declined and made it seem as if my request to clear the air was a display of despicable manners.
'You could have warned me what to expect,' I said to Peto that night in our rooms. I hid my fury under a sorrowful facade. 'I looked tattered. I felt slighted.'
'You looked beautiful. As for my mother, she had a bride all picked for me. When the girl and I met one another, we discovered we had nothing in common save a mutual dislike for arranged marriages. Mother's been sulking ever since. You could be ruler from the mountains to the sea, and she would still ignore you.'
'I can't live with her,' I said, hoping to plant the seeds for an excuse to go home as soon as possible.
'She'll come around. Give her time.' won't be here long enough for that. I've already made sure of it.
'She'll come around faster if I'm properly dressed.'
'Send for the seamstresses in the morning,' he replied. When he kissed me, I responded, then requested time to bathe and change. I asked Sagra to leave as well.
As soon as she had gone, I unlocked my jewel box and pulled from it a tiny vial filled with the amber-colored liquid that I'd gotten from Rilca at Argentine. I want no child, at least not until the time is right.
Arcus, captain of the Sundell guards in the border forest, had been keeping a close eye on the Kislovan men for the last few days. One of their guards had been spending a great deal of time traveling between the shadows of the woods and the guardhouse.
When questioned, the man said he felt sick and needed to use the trench toilets they'd dug there.
Nonetheless, Arcus remained suspicious. The Kislovan men were whispering together, plotting against him, probably in league with the outlaws. As for the last, they were out there in the woods, just waiting for a moment of weakness before attacking.
He doubled the number of guards at night, but the Kislovan plotting continued. Little wonder, he thought, now that Peto was gone, taking with him the last of the Obours. He didn't blame the baron-the woman was such a pretty little thing-but now there was no one to rule these people. It wouldn't be long before open rebellion began.
Tempers flared suddenly: a Kislovan had to be pulled off a Sundell soldier after he'd been accused of cheating at cards; a pilgrim taking a trip to see Sagesse at Tygelt had been beaten by the Kislovan guards; and a thousand trifling tiffs.
When Arcus tried to consider what had changed the tempers in this place, all he could focus on was the duplicity of the Kislovan men. They were angry and jealous of the Sundell men who had defeated them. The Kislovans should have died in the battle. Now they would have to die before they turned on him. He stayed awake, drinking wine while the others not on duty slept. Outside, he could hear the guards. Of the three on duty, two were Kislovan. They whispered to one another. More plots. Too many.
He unsheathed his dagger, hid it under his cloak, and went outside. 'I thought I heard someone moving in the brush,' he said.
'We'll go and look,' the Sundell soldier said.
'No. I'll do it.' He pointed to the Kislovan who'd been spending so much time in the forest and asked him to follow.
Just out of sight of the guardhouse, he crouched down and examined the dust. 'Look what I found.'
'I don't know how you can see a thing in this light,' the soldier grumbled, but crouched beside him. As he did, Arcus stabbed upward with the knife, catching him in the throat. The man fell without a sound. Arcus pulled out the man's knife, nicked his own arm with it and pressed it into the dead man's hand.
Rushing back to the guardhouse with blood falling from his arm and the bloody knife in his hand, he advanced on the remaining Kislovan guard. 'Your partner attacked me,' he said.
The young man, a recent recruit called Lajo, shook his head and backed toward the guardhouse door. 'Stop him before he warns the others,' Arcus said.
The Sundell guard moved quickly, blocking the man's retreat.
The soldier halted. 'I didn't do anything,' Lajo said, then saw the knife Arcus held, the blood staining it almost to the hilt, glinting in the pale moonlight. 'I didn't,' he repeated and fled down the road, his boots raising a cloud of dust as he ran.
Lajo ran as far as he was able, then stopped to catch his breath and listen for pursuers. He heard nothing but the sounds of frogs and insects, the wind rustling through the trees. Keeping to the shadows of the trees, constantly alert for someone seeking him, he slowly made his way back down the road.
The guardhouse door was open. A flickering light inside illuminated the smoke pouring from it. As he moved closer, he saw that the walls and ceiling were on fire. Bodies lay on the ground outside the door; more were just inside it. Some were still alive when he reached the door, but the captain was killing them quickly, stabbing down, oblivious to the flames moving around him.
As Lajo stood, bathed in the smoky light, Arcus looked up at him. With a bellow of rage, he bolted forward. Lajo fled again as the walls and ceiling fell in. He ran, hearing the captain's terrified screams.
Lajo made the trip to Nimbus Castle in record time, then refused to speak to anyone but Lord Jorani personally. He had such fear of Sundell uniforms that Jorani asked Shaul to wear a Kislovan cloak before they questioned Lajo.
An hour later, after they'd listened to his tale of the captain's madness and the slaughter at the guardhouse, they sent out a second group of men to verify his story. Most of the bodies were badly burned. Jorani examined them, but could find no clue as to why they had killed one another.
'It's the isolation,' Shaul suggested. 'We should rotate the duty more often.'
'A good idea,' Jorani agreed, 'but I think it's time for Baron Peto to cut short his honeymoon.'
Five Sundell guards rode to the border. One continued on with a message for Peto. The rest followed JoranFs odd orders and set up a new camp a few hundred yards from the old one.
From the Diary of Baroness Ilsabet
I toured Shadow Castle from top to bottom. I've talked to the laborers who put in the baths and arranged to
