The Shattered Circle

6. The Authority of Frost

As much as I enjoyed my quiet mornings, Luka's requested favor was time-sensitive. I rose long before most others were awake. Shira's nightmares had exhausted her to the point of a relatively deep sleep, so she was still curled up in my bed, clutching at the covers like a protective shield. I sighed and changed into fresh clothing, grabbing Woe automatically as I made my way to the door.

There was a soft, familiar patter of a knock on the door. I opened it without a moment's hesitation, catching that wonderful smell of the aromatic tea that Melody could brew with such an artistic hand. Normally fabrics and information were her domain, but this was something she had brought with her from her homeland, far across the sea.

Melody offered me a small smile. She was a delicate woman, like spun glass, who moved in swaying ways. She was always mindful of where her body was, as her bones were fragile. Her eyes were always hooded, almond-shaped and dark, and she kept her black silk hair in a complicated knot at the back of her head. The weak sunlight meant she was as pale as I was, her once wheat-colored skin now almost porcelain white. "I heard you had a difficult campaign, Aleyr."

I motioned for her to take a step back and then pointed to the central table, surrounded by low couches. When I shut the door behind me, it was with a delicate touch to prevent any sound. Normally we shared tea at the low table beside the largest window in my room, but Shira had only started to actually sleep an hour before dawn. She needed rest, and I was not inconsiderate.

"And here I was hoping to meet your newest stray," Melody said lightly.

"You will be disappointed in her gossiping skills. She only speaks in sign," I said, taking the tray from her delicately and then placing it down on the table. Rich, red-brown tea in delicate ceramic cups formed the pools for foam fish to swim in, artfully drawn.

Melody sat down across from me and picked up a cup, inhaling steam deeply for the fragrance as she collected her thoughts in response. "I heard what happened. Amputation is such a crude punishment, Aleyr."

"A crude punishment suits a crude transgressor. Though perhaps Naltheme was right." Varys left a sour taste in my mouth.

"What did she say?"

I relaxed, arching my back in a stretch. "Her recommendation was castration."

Melody laughed. It was always a beautiful sound, soft and silvery. Everything about her had that air of delicacy that made people forget the needle-like precision and focus that her relentless mind brought to bear. Not just anyone could lead the Sashes, my personal guard, from secret. "That would have been a most suitable punishment."

"Only if it were permanent," I muttered. "Rhandiir had better rein him in or I'll stake him out in the real sun and carve his head off with a dull penknife."

"He is growing unfortunately bold. Might I recommend you make use of Luka's little favor and remind people why you are feared?"

I arched an eyebrow as I sipped from the cup. Faint notes of cinnamon and other spices mingled with the richness of the tea leaves themselves, sweetened just enough by honey. I set the cup down carefully, just as mindful of my movements as she was with hers. "What can you tell me about this dispute of theirs? It's odd that Luka would want to draw an outsider into a fangwarden quarrel."

Melody shrugged. "He has a familial bias to one side. Riyd refused the Shadeclaw's son as a mate several times. When she persisted in ignoring him, he went to his father to demand that she be compelled to accept. The match would have been most beneficial for all parties, if Riyd wanted it. That if, of course, was the sticking point. You know how Riyd adores being controlled."

I snorted at that. "How many pieces did she carve him into?"

"He is in one piece, but that pretty face of his was ripped half off by her claws. When he bemoaned the pain and ruination, Riyd remarked that it was a substantial improvement. The Shadeclaw was not amused."