“Do you recognize these girls?” she asked quietly.
Adrian shook her head. “No,” she answered. “Then again, there’s no reason why I should. I have been gone from Fledgling House for more than twelve years. If Mallory is indeed nineteen, we would have missed one another.”
“Pardon me, Princess,” Shawna said, “but what of Wigg, Faegan, and Jessamay? Will they be all right?”
Shailiha nodded. “They are unharmed. The Minions are digging them free as we speak. Overall, we were lucky. It seems that Faegan’s unconscious attempts to destroy the Redoubt were limited to his quarters and their immediate surroundings. There is much work ahead of us to restore the damage, but the Redoubt’s many treasures are safe.”
“There seems little more that can be done tonight,” Tyranny said.
Shailiha looked over at the disheveled girls. “That’s not altogether true,” she said. She looked at Adrian.
“For the time being, I want you to oversee the girls’ welfare,” she ordered. “If they really are from Fledgling House, you will have the most in common with them. Until we are sure, under no circumstances are they to interact with the boys in the Redoubt Nursery, nor are you to answer any questions they might have regarding their fathers. See to it that they are bathed, clothed, and fed. Then assign them quarters. Let them rest. Tomorrow you may show them the palace. But under no circumstances are they to enter the Redoubt. I want them under the constant supervision of both you and those three warrior guards. The same goes for that woman calling herself Mary. We know even less about her.”
Adrian nodded. “In the meantime, shall I question the girls about Fledgling House?” she asked. “It might go a long way toward proving or disproving their stories.”
Shailiha shook her head. “I have a better way.” She looked at Ox.
“I want you to fetch Martha,” she said. “Wake her, if you must, but bring her here as soon as you can. Tell her it’s urgent. After Celeste’s death she took up residence in the city. Sister Adrian will give you her address. She returns to the palace from time to time, to visit the boys in the Redoubt Nursery. If these girls are who they claim to be, Martha will know. In the meantime I want everyone to go back about his duties. I believe this night is far from over.”
Shailiha looked wearily down at her daughter Morganna. The child had fallen asleep in the stroller. The princess looked back at Shawna.
“Care for Morganna while I cannot,” she said. “In the space of a single night, my responsibilities have become legion.”
Tears started welling up in Shawna’s eyes. She quickly brushed them away.
“On my life,” she answered softly. As she looked at Shannon the Small, her no-nonsense demeanor returned.
“Come on, old man!” she growled. “You heard the princess! There’s plenty more work to do! And if you don’t keep that pipe smoke away from the child, I’ll kick your arse from here to Shadowood!”
As the group separated, Tyranny stayed with the princess. Producing a cigarillo, the privateer struck a match and lit it. After luxuriously inhaling the smoke, she glanced disparagingly at her ball gown.
“Do I have your permission to get out of this ridiculous getup, Your Highness?” she asked with a grin. “My seagoing attire suits me far better.”
Shailiha nodded but did not smile.
Tyranny pursed her lips. “It’s Tristan, isn’t it?” she asked. “I know. I’m worried about him, too.”
Shailiha grasped the gold medallion hanging around her neck, then looked into Tyranny’s eyes. “Yes,” she answered softly. “I fear we may never see him again.”
Saying nothing more, Shailiha looked to Caprice and gave her a silent command. As the princess and the privateer left the hallway, the yellow-and-violet flier followed dutifully overhead.
CHAPTER XIV
“AWAKEN, JIN’SAI,” SAID A HOLLOW VOICE. “IT IS TIMEto greet the dawn.”
Tristan stirred, then sat up. At first he didn’t recognize his surroundings. Then he saw the familiar campfire burning in the cold morning air, and he knew. He instinctively checked his weapons to find that they remained in place over his right shoulder.
Looking farther, he saw the sun breaking over the eastern horizon. The Sippora still refused to flow, the birds did not sing, and the wind remained still. Shadow and another mount stood a short distance away, still tied to the night line.
His back to the prince, Xanthus sat in the early-morning light. His weapons lay beside him. As Xanthus turned, Tristan braced himself to confront the Darkling’s hideous face.
Although he wore Xanthus’ clothes, the being before Tristan was human. The unremarkable face regarded him calmly. Waving one hand, the stranger called the craft, and breakfast materialized. It landed softly atop a blanket that had been stretched out beside the fire.
Tristan looked down to see plates of quail’s eggs, ham, and sliced brown bread. A churn of yellow butter sat nearby, as did a pot of hot tea and two teacups. Tristan looked back into the unfamiliar face.
“Xanthus?” he asked softly. The man nodded.
“In human form,” Tristan mused.
“Yes.”
Xanthus lowered the hood of his robe to fully show his face. He then took an egg and struck it against a plate. After peeling it, he started eating. Tristan watched the silver pot rise into the air to pour two cups of steaming tea. As Xanthus sipped his tea, Tristan regarded him narrowly.
Save for his hands and face, the Darkling looked as he did before. He wore the same black robe, duster, trousers, and boots. The Paragon still hung around his neck. Tristan was relieved to see that the stone’s color remained vibrant, showing it had accepted Xanthus’ human side as its new host.
The prince looked closer at the Darkling’s face. Had Tristan met this fellow anywhere else, he would have scarcely noticed him. The visage implied strength, but was also sensual-looking. Brown, almost black eyes rested above a straight nose. The mouth was wide and the lips full. The chin showed a deep cleft, and his rather wavy hair was brown. Had he not been some abomination of the craft, he might be anyone.
Tristan looked skeptically at the food, then back at Xanthus. The Darkling smiled.
“We might be together for some time, Jin’Sai, ” he said. “You must learn to trust me.”
Deciding he had no choice, Tristan took a sip of the excellent tea, then filled a plate with food. After dipping a bread slice into the butter, he ate hungrily. He soon felt the forgotten ball mask rubbing against his skin. Reaching beneath his vest, he removed it. Xanthus eyed it knowingly.
“Before this day passes, you will come to hate me even more,” he said. “But less, I suspect, than you will hate me tomorrow.”
Putting down his plate, Tristan regarded the mask, then turned his eyes back toward the Darkling. He had never visited Everhaven, but he already mourned its citizens’ fates.
“Must it be this way?” he asked angrily. “Is there nothing I can do-short of going through the azure pass-that will dissuade you from this madness?”
“No,” Xanthus answered. “I have given you all the needed explanations. It is time to decide.”
Tristan looked at the mask. “I know why you gave this to me,” he said. “You wish me to remain anonymous as I watch the atrocities. What I do not know is why.”
“The answer is simple,” Xanthus said. “If and when you return from the other side, the Heretics want no animosity existing between the populace and their prince. Only recently have your fellow Eutracians come to again accept you as their legitimate regent. Should they recognize you while I go about my work, your family house would carry the stain for all time. Such an unfortunate occurrence would prove problematic.”
“Why do the Heretics care about such things?”
“All in good time, Jin’Sai, ” Xanthus answered.
“You just said, ‘if and whenyou return from the other side,’” Tristan mused. “Assuming that I follow you into the pass, won’t you be returning with me?”
